The Journey
by Spudzmom
Summary: Some say the destination is the goal and for Isabella, the destination was love. What she would discover was a love for the ages, but it wasn't the destination...no, it was the journey. Vamp/human, rated for adult themes/material, history/time travel, Hiatus
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.**

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**~o0o~**

**Chapter 1**

It was midday in the peaceful, quaint parish on the outskirts of London as young Carlisle Cullen made his way home from devotions, as was his routine and had been for the past twelve years. He was now twenty and two and, according to his father, ready to take over the parish ministry and all its responsibilities. There was only one problem; he needed a wife and none of the marriageable females in their parish appealed to him, much to his stern father's displeasure. Still, he refused to settle and so dealt with yet another point of contention between them.

He sighed as he opened the door to his home, doffing his hat and cloak as he entered. "Mother, I'm home," he called out in the relative silence which wasn't unusual. She'd been quite sickly lately and had taken to her bed frequently during odd times of the day.

"Hush young master!" he heard their maid whisper as she bustled into the room. "Ye Mum's taken to her sick bed lad and it won't do to have ye bellerin' out like some commoner!"

He inclined his head as she took his hat and cloak. "Forgive me Gerty. I was unaware."

"Hmph," she said as she eyed him sternly and shew'ed him from the room with her hand. "Off to the dining room with ye then lad. Yer vittles be a'waitin'. Probably stone cold by now," she grumbled as he made his way to the table and sat.

"Well get to servin' lass!" Gerty hissed at the young girl his father had just hired to help her in her advancing years. "Young Master canna' be waitin' all day on ye!" she grumbled. "All a blushin' and stammerin'," she grumped as she bustled from the room.

It was then that Carlisle realized the old maid was right, though he'd hardly noticed before. The girl was bright red of face and wouldn't make eye contact as she served his soup with a hand that trembled noticeably. "Are you well?" he inquired kindly and if possible, she reddened even more.

"Aye, Lord Cullen," she gushed shyly as she bobbed a curtsy and retreated to the corner to await the next course.

He silently prayed and as he began to eat, he studied the girl surreptitiously as she stared steadfastly at the floor while fidgeting. The first thing he noticed was she was quite shapely under her drab grey serving dress; her neck graceful as it curved into slim shoulders and—he dropped his gaze back to his bowl as he thought on her bosom—high and firm and… He cleared his throat and took a bite of buttered bread, his own face now feeling quite flush. Soon though, his eyes wandered back to her and he continued his perusal.

Her waist was tiny; just right to set his hands upon as it curved into shapely hips. From thence, he could only imagine the enticing form of her legs before noticing her petite feet as tiny slippers peeked from the hem of her skirts. Really, now that he truly took notice, he had to admit she was quite fetching, if only he could get a proper look at her face…

He knew her hair—what he could see under the server's cap she wore—was lovely; a rich mahogany hue that he found himself rather drawn to. It looked very soft, like the finest silk and he found himself longing to see and feel it unfettered and spilling over his hands in what he imagined would be cascading curls if the rebellious wisps that had escaped her cap were any indication.

"What is your name?" he questioned over the rim of his wine glass. He had to stifle a smile as she startled and her head shot up, her eyes—as brown and innocent as a doe's and rimmed by thick, dark lashes—widened as she stared at him.

"Beg pardon, my Lord?" she questioned, her creamy cheeks aflame, their redness almost outmatching her full, blush-red lips. _'Heaven above,'_ he thought. _'She's beautiful; almost near to perfect…'  
_

"Your name," he repeated smoothly. "Pray tell, what is it?"

"Is—Isabella," she stammered, her gaze quickly dropping back down to the floor.

He cocked a brow. "And your family name?" he prompted when she wasn't forthcoming.

She looked shamed as she murmured, her answer barely audible. "Bouchard, Lord Cullen." She looked up, her gaze now bold and locked with his startled blue one. "I am the youngest daughter of Lord Henry Bouchard."

"A nobleman's daughter," he said in disbelief. "What circumstances find you engaged as a serving maid?"

Her gaze dropped again, though her back stayed straight. "I would rather not speak of it my Lord, though I find myself grateful you do not possess the knowledge already." She met his gaze once again, her's now lacking the hard edge it'd had before. "It speaks of your good character that you do not, for the gossips have had their time with it, to be sure."

His eyes hardened as his jaw clenched. "You are quite right. I do not suffer gossips or fools. No good ever comes of it."

"Aye my Lord," she mumbled, once again staring at her shoes. "Suffice to say, I find my self in your employ as the best alternative available for an honest wage."

"And marriage? Were there no prospects?" he asked as she served the next course, her hand now steady at her task.

"Aye, there were if my father were cruel enough to see me tied to one of many ancients who vied for my hand. Alas, he was not, God be praised. I've no dowry now you see, a prospect most unappealing to any young Lords, at least those in my home parish, and Father had not the funds to go farther afield. I'm only here because your father had the coin to bring me here."

"Well," he commented with a kind smile. "Perhaps this is where our Lord meant for you to be."

She bobbed a curtsy. "Perhaps so, my Lord," she answered before retreating to her corner as he finished his meal in silence, his mind awhirl with this new knowledge and his definite fancy for her.

~o0o~

That evening Isabella Bouchard lay in her straw-stuffed servant's bed as her mind tried desperately to assimilate two realities yet again; one from this time and one from hundreds of years in the future. This had been her struggle since she'd fainted when her father, Henry had informed her of her new employment.

She'd awoken knowing she was Isabella Bouchard, youngest daughter of newly impoverished Lord Henry Bouchard, however she'd also awoken knowing she was Isabella Swan, only daughter of Charles Swan, chief of police of Forks, WA; both lifetimes clear and unquestionable to her.

Her thoughts turned to her life as a Swan and the very last memories she had of it. She'd been in a forest with the youngest member of the Cullen vampire coven. Now that memory had shocked her Bouchard sensibilities to be sure! Vampires?! But yes, Isabella Swan knew these things without a doubt and she didn't know why, but she didn't even question her sanity in this situation. She simply knew it as fact, in her heart and in her soul and she would trust it. She knew, somehow, she had to for doing so was vital to her survival. The only way she could explain any of it was to say that she was equally as much Isabella Swan as she was Isabella Bouchard. To deny either was to deny herself and she wasn't about to do that.

Isabella Swan had fancied herself in love with the youngest Cullen, and he had just abandoned his suit and left her there in a cold, dark forest where she'd finally fainted, her very last thought being finding her true love.

Meanwhile, Isabella Bouchard had just learned that her life was now to be one of servitude; a very bitter tonic to swallow for a high-born daughter of a noble Lord of the realm. Her search for love had been as fruitless as that of the Swan; her last thought before fainting also on finding her true love.

Now here she was, lying in a servant's bed, her combined conscience in shock of the reality she now realized. Both of them had wished to find their true love just before fainting and there was only one thing the two Isabellas' shared in common, she now knew: Carlisle Cullen.

~o0o~

Lord Charles Cullen sat behind his desk, his stern brow creased and mouth set in his usual frown as he awaited his only son and heir's presence.

One could never describe him as cheerful or patient and these days one would be even less apt to apply the terms as his displeasure with his son and the failing of his wife's health weighed heavily upon his shoulders.

"Where is that infernal boy?" he seethed as he read over the many documents stacked upon his desk.

The door opened and he didn't even glance up. "You are late," he stated, his tone clipped as his son stood stiffly in front of his desk.

Carlisle cringed inwardly while standing stoically in front of his father. What excuse could he give? It was only five minutes, but he knew from experience his father would never accept it nor excuse it. His only reprieve now was he was too old for the man to chastise with the strap. "I know Father. Please forgive me."

Charles glanced up sharply with a grunt. "Not likely," he snapped as he set the many documents aside and focused on his son—his son who'd seemed to have taken after his wife in every way, from her fair looks, her piercing blue eyes and her gentle personality—he was everything his mother was and nothing of him and that fact had been a disappointment to the noble Lord almost from the day of his heir's birth.

"The time has come for me to relinquish my duties and for you to step into them. When last we spoke, I allowed a fortnight to find a proper wife before taking matters into my own hands. Have you?"

Carlisle stared straight ahead. "I have my Lord, but I've yet to seek her hand from her father."

Charles sat back in his seat and folded his hands atop the desk. "And who, pray tell is the lady?

Carlisle kept his tone even. "The Lady Isabella Bouchard, youngest daughter of Lord Henry Bouchard."

He was not prepared for his father's reaction.

Charles shot from his seat to lean across the desk as he seethed in the face of his stoic son. "Have you taken leave of your senses? The man is steeped in scandal, his good name practically ruined, his daughter nothing more than a servant! And this is what you aspire to?!" He sneered. "Pathetic," he spat, retaking his seat as he scowled darkly.

"Their unfortunate circumstances are not of their own doing but rather those of brigands and thieves who defrauded them over the course of many years. Her virtue remains untarnished, her good breeding impeccable." He finally met his father's gaze. "She will make a fine wife and a worthy addition to our line. I am sure her father will grant my suit."

His father scoffed. "Oh, of that I have no doubt as he was more than willing to hire her out as a maid. Why wouldn't he bless the very day you darkened his door?" He studied his silent son for a moment before sitting back and waving a hand dismissively. "Go. You will ride out post-haste to ply your suit. Once granted, I shall announce the banns Sunday next. Now, be gone with you but I expect you back for this nights hunt. It is a full moon, after all."

Carlisle stepped back and bowed. "As you say. Good day to you Father."

~o0o~

Isabella studied herself in the looking glass as her sisters wove ribbons into her hair and made many last-minute adjustments to her gown.

If she had to describe her state of mind at the moment, it would be one of shock. She still couldn't quite take in the fact that she was betrothed, much less getting married this very day and to a man she barely knew.

"Isabella!" a voice intruded upon her thoughts and she turned to look at her sister absently.

"You've not heard a word I've spoken have you?"

Isabella blushed. "Forgive me Fiona, I have not. What did you wish to say?"

Her sisters giggled together and Fiona replied. "I was simply commenting on your good fortune! Truly, none are even half as handsome as your Lord Cullen! Surely angels have graced you this day!"

Isabella blushed and her sister, Clarice intervened. "Fiona, do not tease her so. I am sure the day and the night will be trial enough for our dear little Isabella. Now sweet sister, do you remember what I told you?" Her tone taking on a hint of sorrow. "I know that I am no replacement for our dear mother…"

Isabella took Clarice's hands. "You were wonderful with the advice you shared. I am sure our mother would be proud of you."

Tears filled her sister's eyes. "I am meant to comfort you and yet you comfort me."

A knock at the door startled all three and they laughed lightly as Fiona opened the door. "Father," she murmured and backed away to allow him entrance. "My lovely daughters," he said with a smile. "Isabella," he breathed as he looked at her. "You are the very image of your mother, child." He offered his arm. "It is time," he said simply and she nodded and joined him, happy that she was able to marry here, in her home parish.

"I am ready Father."

The wedding, for all its nobility, was a short affair with vows exchanged, a chaste kiss shared and a quick exit to a waiting carriage that would take them to the nearby inn. When they arrived, her heart was pounding as Carlisle led her to their room and closed the door on her past, literally and symbolically, before turning to her.

Taking a deep breath, she moved forward to stand in front of him. "Husband," she said simply as his blue eyes gleamed in the candle light.

"Wife," he breathed as he slowly cupped her cheek. "You are so beautiful, the very sight of you steals the breath from my body."

Winding her arms around his neck, she urged him down into a kiss, one that began slowly, sweetly, until a spark ignited and it deepened as she opened to him, coaxing him in with a moan and light, teasing tongue running over his bottom lip.

He was shocked at first, she could tell and for a fleeting moment, she worried what he would think. Then he groaned and pulled her close with an arm around her waist and all thought left her mind as his velvet tongue swept past her lips.

When he broke for breath, she was desperate for more as he trailed light kisses down her neck. "Isabella," he whispered. "How I have wanted you, my sweet Isabella…"

She looked at him with hooded eyes, her blood heated and thrumming through her veins as her body prepared itself to receive him. "Then take me Carlisle…make me truly yours, she murmured as she loosened his cravat and slid it from around his neck. His breathing sped and he pulled her in for another kiss as his hand began to roam over her waist, to her ribs and finally up to her clothed breast where he lightly squeezed. She gasped at the feeling and he smiled against her lips. "This pleases you?" he questioned as she pulled him closer, tilting her head back as his thumb brushed over and circled her hardened peak.

"Yes," she breathed. "More, please my Lord," she begged and he obliged as he clutched her tightly, his hips instinctively grinding against her.

Together, they worked the fastenings of their clothes, slipping out of each piece between heated kisses and exploring touches until finally, they were bare.

The last thing Carlisle loosened was her hair, his blue eyes bright like flame as he watched the silken mass tumble down around her shoulders. "So very beautiful…" he murmured as he worked his fingers through her curls before nipping and sucking at her lips.

"Carlisle," she breathed as she pressed herself against him. "Please, my lord…" she begged as his head dipped down and he sucked in a dusky peak.

"The bed my lord," she groaned and he nodded as she broke away from him and climbed in. He followed eagerly and covered her body immediately, his blond hair falling into his eyes as he settled his hips between her thighs.

"Please forgive me if I hurt you," he said as he placed himself at her entrance but he paused as she gripped his shoulders.

"Pray go slowly my lord," she whispered, her brown eyes wide as the import of what was about to happen registered past the heat of their passion.

He nodded and kissed her, his tongue sweeping past her parted lips to tangle with hers. She moaned into the kiss and he waited to feel her hands relax before pushing his way into her slick, tight passage.

His arms trembled as she took him in, inch by inch, stretching around him as she gasped and whimpered and his eyes clenched shut at the sensations—the feel of her body wrapping his long, thick shaft—he was almost overcome and had to grit his teeth to stave off spilling himself right then.

When he finally seated himself as deeply as he could, he looked down at her and kissed away her tears. "Are you well?" he murmured and she nodded into the crook of his neck.

"Yes," she finally whispered through her tears.

He drew back his hips then, drawing himself from her body almost to the tip before pushing back in, every ounce of his control focused on fighting his urge to plunge into her quickly and furiously. He did this twice more while settling and changing the angle and she gasped. "Oooh, yes my lord, yes…" she moaned as she wrapped her legs over his hips as she finally relaxed and opened fully to him.

A small smile curved his lips before he leaned down and kissed her as he continued his slow, firm thrusts and soon she was nipping and sucking at his parted lips as she gasped and keened.

"Faster please my lord," she urged as she arched against him, his hot, wet kisses against the creamy skin of her neck and shoulder doing as much to stoke her passion as his thrusting hips were.

"Isabella," he murmured as his hips sped, his hot, hard shaft plunging into her welcoming heat again and again as she writhed and moaned, her hands gliding down the flexing muscles of his back to grip and ride on the firm, perfect globes of his ass as he finally found his stride and took to fucking her in earnest.

"My lord," she cried as her head thrashed and her body arched as she felt a tension mount deep within. "I need—I need—oh please!" she babbled as something—some need, primal and undeniable—built higher and higher as his hard strokes now slammed into her, his grunts and groans muffled against her neck with his efforts.

"Carlisle!" she finally screamed as she arched one more time, the tension within bursting out in wave after wave of ecstasy as she gripped herself to his powerfully thrusting form, her tightening, pulsing walls finally milking his release from him as he seated himself and came with a groan of her name.

When he caught his breath, he kissed her once more before withdrawing to lie next to her and he smiled as she curled into him, her head on his shoulder as he drew her close. She was his wife in truth now and he couldn't be happier.

Isabella lay there, sated, aching and disbelieving. Carlisle Cullen was her husband now, in every way, but what would their future hold, and could she change it?

More than that, should she change it?

She just didn't know…

**Your thoughts? 'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: Citrus ahead. Not intended for minors. Be advised, there is Christian material involved in this chapter, running with the theme from Carlisle's canon background. It is not meant to offend and thus is not up for debate. It's simply part of the story. Thanks to all who reviewed, fav'ed and followed. Your support means so much and I love hearing from you! ~Spudz

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~o0o~

Chapter 2

"Isabella?" The voice finally penetrated her thoughts and she startled, the needle she was wielding pricking her finger as she did so. "Ah!" she gasped, bringing her finger to her lips to suck on the bead of blood that welled immediately.

"Oh child, I did not mean to frighten you. Forgive me."

She smiled over at her mother-in-law. "It's quite all right Lady Mary. I was lost in thought, I'm afraid. The fault is my own," she chastised herself as she lay aside her needlework with a quiet sigh.

Mary smiled kindly from her chair next to the fire. "What troubles you child? You've been this way for days. Pray, share your burdens with me?"

Isabella lifted her head to meet the concerned woman's sympathetic gaze. "The moon is full tonight," she said simply and Mary nodded sadly.

"You worry for him," she stated gently and Isabella nodded.

"Aye, 'tis true," she murmured. Really, due to Isabella Swan's knowledge, she knew it was only a matter of time until her husband met a horrible fate on one of his hunts and she was terrified. While she couldn't say she was in love with Carlisle yet, she was most fond of him and didn't want to see him harmed.

They had been married for three months now and he had been nothing but loving, attentive and kind to her. A better husband was not to be had, she was sure.

And now, there were other considerations… She looked up at her mother-in-law who was watching her closely. "Lady Mary…" she began tentatively.

"Yes child, go on," Mary prompted when Isabella hesitated.

"Pray tell, how does a woman know…when she's with child?" she questioned while staring down into her lap.

Mary drew in a sharp breath. "Oh Isabella! Is this something you suspect?"

She nodded without looking up. "Aye," she whispered. "I do." She looked up. "I would like to be sure before I tell my lord husband, but how can I be so? What are the signs?"

Mary nodded with a smile. "Well, oft you will purge in the morn, although 'tis not uncommon to do so no matter the hour. Some odors will make you sick when they never did before and there is the lack of bleeding…"

Isabella blushed and nodded. "Aye my lady, I've all of those."

"How long have you gone without bleeding, child?" Mary questioned gently.

Isabella dipped her head down. "Since before we wed, my lady."

"Truly, you are a blessing to my son, child. He's to be a father!" she exclaimed with a bright smile. "Our Lord has blessed me too, for I still draw breath to witness it!"

Their talk ended when Gerty entered the room. "Lady Cullen, dinner is ready and I have your tray ready for ye. Will ye be takin' it here or in yer chambers this evenin'?"

Mary smiled at Isabella. "I do believe I'm feeling fine enough to take my dinner with the family this evening Gerty, thank you," she said as she rose from her chair.

Isabella stood just as Carlisle entered the room.

"Good evening Mother, Isabella," he nodded to both and kissed each on their cheek in greeting. "Will you be dining with us this evening Mother?"

She smiled softly and cupped his cheek. "I will," she affirmed.

"I'll escort you," he said and she shook her head.

"You've a wife to look after my son. I'll wait upon your father."

He inclined his head. "He should be along…" He trailed off as his father entered the room.

"Mary, 'tis good to see you join us this evening. I trust you're well?"

"Aye, as well as can be," she answered as she took his offered arm.

"I am pleased," he said while glancing at his son and daughter-in-law. "Shall we?" he asked, his normally stern tone surprisingly softened.

Isabella took Carlisle's offered arm and they preceded the older couple to the dining room where he helped her into her seat before standing next to his own. He didn't seat himself until his mother had been seated and then both he and his father sat.

The elder Cullen prayed over the meal and the servers stepped forward to serve the soup course. When they were done, they stepped back and the meal began.

"Tis a full moon this eve son. Are you and your group ready?"

Carlisle paused and took a sip of wine before answering. "Aye Father, we are," he affirmed.

The man grunted. "I hope you see more success than you have in the past." He stared his son down. "You've yet to catch or kill any of the evil that plagues the city. Perhaps I should join you once again. At least when I went out, we managed to purge the odd witch now and again."

Isabella glanced at her husband in time to see the muscles in his jaw twitch as he stared steadfastly down at the table. "Aye, that you did," he agreed, his tone tight with tension. "Whatever you think best Father," he murmured as he began eating again.

The older man scoffed. "You don't seem pleased with doing our Lord's work my son," he commented, somehow making the word 'son' sound less than familial and once again, Carlisle paused mid-bite.

He lowered his spoon and met his father's gaze. "Perhaps because where you see evil Father, I see only impoverished women trying to survive by selling herbs and remedies."

"Soft," the older man spat. "Soft and ignorant in the ways of the evil that plagues us, suffering fools and heretics. You'll never amount to anything in our Lord's service if you don't harden your heart against such things."

Isabella's heart ached at the look on her husband's face as he stared down unseeingly at his meal. "Perhaps not," he murmured. "But I would rather a soft heart and avoid killing one innocent than a hardened one and kill many in pursuit of a few." He looked up and met his father's furious gaze. "Our Lord will judge us all in the end and only He knows the heart. Perhaps we'd be better off leaving Him to it."

He began eating once again and Isabella could have cheered at the way her husband had effectively shut the older man up. She could tell her father-in-law longed to rage at his son, but if there was one good thing about having Mary there, it was the fact that he restrained himself around her. For that, Bella was grateful.

The rest of the meal was consumed in silence and as soon as it was clear she was finished, Carlisle rose and helped her from her seat. "Isabella and I shall retire until it is time for me to assemble with the group. Mother," he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Father, I bid you both good night."

He led Bella to their rooms and relaxed visibly once their door closed.

He began tugging at his cravat and Bella covered and stilled his hands with her own. "Allow me," she murmured as she loosened the tie and removed it. Setting it to the side, she went back to work the buttons on his coat and vest which she also helped him remove. When he was down to his linen shirt, she tugged it from his breeches and lifted it over his head. "Much better," she whispered as she ran her hands over the muscled planes of his chest. His eyes closed as his breaths sped. "Your touch," he breathed. "…'tis that of an angel's."

"Would an angel do this my lord?" she questioned as she began to kiss his chest, her lips and tongue paying particular attention to the tiny, hardened buds she found there as he groaned and buried his hands in her hair causing the pins to fall away.

She looked up at him through her lashes and the look in his vivid blue eyes caused her blood to thrum through her veins as her heart picked up speed.

Reaching down, he loosened the lacings on his breeches and backed her up until she felt the bed behind her. Turning her around quickly, he bent her over the bed and she gasped as he lifted her skirts and pulled down her knickers. "My lord?" she began to question when he leaned over to kiss and nuzzle just under her ear.

"Shh, don't speak," he instructed lowly and she gasped again as he entered her clenching, wet heat, hard and fast with a grunt and a groan.

She moaned loudly and shamelessly as he began thrusting, his hands on her hips holding her steady as each powerful slow stroke jolted her.

He moved her skirts up even further as his hands began to stroke and caress her ass while he gave her every long, thick inch of his cock she could take, over and over again in that same slow, hard rhythm.

Bracing herself with fistfuls of coverlet, she began to cry out and push back into him, thoroughly enjoying being taken in such a primal way.

"Does this please you wife?" he questioned between panted breaths and grunts as he fucked her, the feel of his slick shaft filling and retreating driving all coherent thought from her head.

When she didn't answer with words, he shocked her again when she felt a stinging slap on her bottom. She moaned and clenched around his cock in response. "I asked you a question wife…does this please you?"

"Yes!" she cried out, though she knew not how, so caught in the sensations was she. Still, she managed. "Aye, it does!" she moaned with a toss of her head. "You…please me…greatly!"

"Good," he growled as he soothed her reddened bottom with his hand, barely holding off spilling all he had as he watched himself slide in and out between her perfect, creamy thighs.

"Carlisle!" she finally cried out, pushing back to get every inch she could, her hot, tight walls gripping and pulsing around him as she came.

The sight of her—thrashing, flushed and thoroughly debauched—and the feel of her—hot, tight, gripping and pulsing around him—was too much then and he came with a shout as he rammed in once more and seized while filling her.

When he came back to himself, he looked down at her—lying limply over the bed, her breathing as labored as his—and would have been appalled at himself if not for the seductive chuckle coming from her as he withdrew from her body.

"Hmm," she said as she rolled over and got comfortable on the bed, stretching and eyeing him with a coy smile. "Come," she said while holding a hand out to him. "Lie with me and rest a while until you have to go."

He tucked himself into his breeches and laced them loosely before lying with her where she curled up against him as her hand stroked his chest.

He was almost asleep when her low voice drew him back from slumber. "Be safe this night my lord."

He tightened his hold on her and kissed her head. "I will."

"You must come back to me," she said while leaning up to look in his eyes.

He caressed her face with a gentle hand and a smile. "I vow it."

"Good," she said as she kissed his lips softly.

"…because our child needs you too."

**Your thoughts? 'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.**

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**A/N: Last chapter, Isabella had just revealed to Carlisle that he would be a father.**

**~o0o~**

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**Chapter 3**

He stared at her for moments looking startled as the silence stretched out between them and Bella began to fear his reaction. What if this news displeased him?

Then he reached out and cupped her cheek as she stared down at the bed. "Truly?" he whispered. "Am I to be a father?" he asked with wonder in his voice and she met his gaze once again with a tiny nod.

"Aye, after speaking with your mother, I believe so my lord."

He pulled her close with a quietly joyful laugh. "I've truly been blessed, first with such a wife as you and now with a child; I can scarce take it in…" he murmured as his fingers gently carded through her loosened locks.

She relaxed against him, a small smile curving her lips as she was lulled to sleep by the steady beat of his heart under her ear.

Carlisle awoke an hour later to the timid knock of a servant at his door. Lifting his wife's sleeping form from him, he placed her gently back against the pillows and covered her with a quilt as he kissed her head.

Quickly slipping into his shirt, he answered the door and quietly thanked the servant for waking him before fully dressing for his evening of roaming the darkest parts of London.

He sighed. Truth be told, he hated this part of his duties. His heart most definitely wasn't in it. As a matter of fact, he could say he was against what they did for the most part, due to the fact that all he'd ever seen be caught were poor women trying to survive the only way they knew how. He'd never once seen a werewolf or vampire, though his father was adamant concerning the existence of such evil.

Doing something about it though would require open defiance of his father and that would require open defiance of the church; something, he knew, would result in imprisonment and perhaps even death.

Being as quiet as he could, he armed himself with the various weapons and holy tools of the trade before slipping out of his rooms, donning his heavy cloak and making his way out into the street.

The walk to the church was a short one and soon he found himself amongst a group of torch bearing men, quietly discussing the details of their upcoming hunt. "Lord Cullen," one of the more seasoned parishioners greeted.

He inclined his head and raised his voice to be heard as he addressed the group. "Good evening to you. You all know where we hunt this night?"

Upon the many affirmations, he continued. "Very well. Let us pray for our Lord's blessing, and we shall depart. Remember to stay in groups of no less than three and we shall meet back here at daybreak." He then prayed over them and they set out for the bleakest parts of the city; the back alleys and sewers leading to the docks and waterfront.

All seemed relatively quiet until Carlisle and his group turned into a dank, narrow street that housed a pub and brothel. The sight that greeted him had his eyes widening in shock as his breath caught.

There was a man bent over the pinned form of a woman, but as Carlisle watched on, the man looked up and as the light of the torch reflected off his softly shimmering form, he was shocked even further by the creature's eyes. They were red and glowing with a feral light as blood dripped from the creature's chin.

Carlisle crossed himself and pulled his sword as he glanced at his terrified companions. "The Lord is our strength," he murmured as he ran toward the creature who hissed and vanished in an instant, leaving the drained body of the woman behind.

One of Carlisle's companions knelt to check the body and Carlisle shook his head. "There's no help for her. She is gone, but do what must be done and be quick. We must be after him!"

"Aye, my lord," his companion answered with a nod and steeled himself as he took the woman's head with one swift arc of his blade, noting the lack of blood as he did so. Leaning to the side, he retched and coughed as the head rolled to a stop in a nearby puddle.

"All right, 'tis done, let us be away," Carlisle muttered as his own stomach lurched while he strode away. He was still very much in shock over the encounter with the creature. He'd never expected his father to be right and now he had to face the reality of it.

But the creature had been so swift! How were they to catch or kill such a being? He had no idea. He knew one thing however; now, more than ever, the hunt must continue, for looking into those red eyes had convinced him; true evil did exist and as a man of God, it was his duty to rid his city of it.

Dawn was just breaking when the tired group gathered at the church once again, many looking worse for wear, their clothes filthy and some torn. They had searched for the rest of the night and had found nothing which left him rather uneasy, knowing they were out there, roaming freely. What alarmed Carlisle the most however was two of their number missing. "Where are Mr. Collins and Mr. Adams?"

He took note of the terrified looks on some of the faces. "They was taken my lord," one brave soul muttered as he crossed himself. "Taken by the devil's own, they were." The man met Carlisle's gaze, his eyes full of terror. "The creature's looked like men, but their eyes my lord—red and glowing like a demon's they were!"

Upon that declaration, there were several nods and audible "Aye's" as they all shuddered and crossed themselves.

Carlisle nodded. "Aye, I saw them too but we must stay strong and continue on with our Lord's work for these being's are evil, in truth. Take heart men, for our Lord has now shown us a worthy adversary and we must not fail Him. Let us pray and be on our way and I shall see you on the Lord's day."

He prayed over them then and they all went their separate ways.

Carlisle's day was only beginning though because after bathing and dressing at home, he would have to visit the families of Collins and Adams. He heaved a weary sigh at just the thought as he opened the door to his home and stepped through. After hanging his hat and cloak, he quietly headed toward his rooms.

As he passed the parlor, he spied the form of his wife in a chair by the fire. "Isabella?" he questioned softly. "Why are you not still a'bed? 'Tis quite early, the day is barely broken."

"My lord," she breathed as she set her needlework aside. "You're safe."

He reached her in two long strides and took her hands in his as he placed a kiss on her cheek. "I'm safe," he agreed as she blinked up at him.

There was a stiffness to his countenance that was never there before and her brow creased as she studied him. "What ails you my lord? Is there aught amiss?"

He held her concerned gaze for moments, trying to decide how much to share with her. He didn't want her or his child to be harmed, and fretting about this would only hurt them, he was sure. Still, he had to be somewhat forthcoming. He would never lie to his wife and so he finally nodded. "Aye, we lost two of our number to some great evil last night, an evil I witnessed with my own eyes as it fed from an unfortunate."

At her sharply indrawn breath, he knelt down and covered her hands with his. "Worry not wife," he said earnestly. "Our Lord will protect us as long as we have faith." He bent his head and kissed her hands and a tear traced a path down her cheek as she watched him.

"My lord," she whispered and he looked up once again. "Pray cease these hunts, I beg you! No good can come of them and I fear you'll be taken!"

He stood and caressed her face with the backs of his fingers. "My sweet wife, worry not, for the Lord will not task me with a thing that He's not strengthened me for beforehand. Now, I must go bathe and change. I must see to the families of the two we've lost."

She wiped her tears as she took a bracing breath and rose from the chair. "I shall attend you and accompany you to the families to offer what comfort I may."

She took his arm and they made their way to his rooms. On the way, Bella stopped a servant and requested a bucket of heated water.

When they arrived, and the servant had brought the water, she turned to her husband who stood patiently waiting and began working to loosen the cravat at his neck. The nervous clearing of his throat had her eyes flitting up to meet his but she dropped her gaze almost immediately and began on the buttons of his coat. When she had them all open, she glided her hands under the material to slide the coat from his shoulders. He was warm, his muscles firm under her hands and she bit her lip to focus on her task instead of her husband's physique. The vest and shirt were next and she made short work of them, soon baring his torso to her regard.

Taking up a soft cloth, she dipped it in the heated water and wrung it out before rubbing the lump of soap over it.

Stepping closer to his bared chest, she looked up into his eyes. "May I, my lord," she asked as she held up the cloth.

"Yes," he murmured, his voice husky with the tension crackling between them.

Gently, she ran the cloth over his skin while resting one hand against the smooth muscle of his chest. Rinsing the cloth, she went back over the damp skin to remove the soap, rinsed again and started on his chest and arms. When she was completely through, he drew her close while tucking some hair back from her face. "You're becoming so precious to me Isabella… Never did I envision feeling this way," he murmured while tilting her face up with gentle fingers under her chin.

Her heart sped at the heated look in his eyes and when she looked down, she blushed at the bulge she could see in his breeches. "Thank you my lord. I'm happy I please you."

He urged her head back up as his hold around her waist tightened. "It is more than being pleased with you, wife. There is love blooming in my heart for you," he whispered as he captured her lips in a kiss. When he drew back, he continued. "While I thought we'd be compatible and learn to regard each other fondly, this is so much more and it fills my heart with joy."

She leaned up on her toes and kissed him then because she didn't know quite what to say. While she knew she cared for him and respected him, she still couldn't say she loved him and she didn't want to hurt him, so she threw herself into the kiss to avoid speaking and hoped, with time, she'd come to love him in return. It was difficult though because she knew she was going to lose him. She just didn't know when and so she guarded her heart.

When their kiss broke, she slowly backed away and got out a clean shirt for him which she handed to him wordlessly. He sighed and put it on. "Yes, I suppose I must focus on my duties, mustn't I?" he asked while giving her a wan smile as she held his vest and coat.

"Yes, my lord. I'm sure the families must be frantic with worry."

"Aye, I'm sure they are," he agreed with a frown. "We will see to them first before breaking our fast."

She nodded and straightened his cravat after tying his hair back with a leather tie. "There," she said as she inspected him with a nod. "You are quite presentable now my lord."

Amusement danced through his blue eyes. "Presentable?"

She blushed but held his gaze. "Yes," she affirmed.

"Well," he said as he took her hand and bowed over it. "My thanks for your assistance, my lady wife."

"You're quite welcome, my lord," she breathed at the look she was receiving from him as he kissed her hand. "Sh—shall we be going now?" she stuttered and he straightened and offered his arm.

"We shall."

* * *

To say carrying such terrible news to two separate families was an ordeal would be understating things greatly and Isabella hoped with all her heart this was the very last time she'd have to endure such a thing.

The grief had been overwhelming and she'd been hard-pressed to deal with it. As it was, she leaned heavily against her husband on the way home, finally breaking down in the relative privacy of their home.

Carlisle had picked her up then and carried her to his rooms where he laid her on the bed. Taking a seat next to her, he caressed her cheek as she cried. "I'm sorry," she choked out through her tears. "I should be stronger…"

"Shh," he hushed her while drying her tears. "You have a tender heart and there is nothing wrong with that. The morning was a trying one for us all. Do not be ashamed of sharing their grief."

She covered his hand on her cheek with her own and stared up at him. "You're a very good man, Carlisle Cullen and I am proud to call you my husband."

He smiled and dried more of her tears. "Would you like something to eat now?"

She shook her head. "I cannot eat just now. Perhaps later, but I am so very tired…"

"Well then," he said while covering her with a quilt. "Sleep my beautiful wife, and dream good dreams. I shall see you later."

He rose from the bed and she closed her eyes and surrendered to fatigue and as she slipped away into dreams, she embraced a feeling of relief… the relief of the knowledge they were safe…

Safe from whatever fate had in mind…

…for another month, at least.

**Your thoughts? 'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: Bit of a time skip in this chapter. It will be noted in the story, but I didn't want you to miss it and be confused, just in case. Also, we get a look at what's taking place in modern day Forks! :-) Hope you all enjoy! If you do, leave me a word or two, yeah? Thanks! ~Spudz

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Isabella leaned over the bucket and expelled the rest of what she'd eaten at the mid-day meal as Gerty bustled into the room with a tray. "Pray, do not bring me food!" Isabella begged miserably while the old servant clucked over her with a cool, wet cloth.

"Hush now child," she soothed as she wiped her brow and mouth. "Tis only a bit of bread and Lady Mary's special tea. 'Twill settle your belly."

Isabella sat back and Gerty pressed the cup into her hands. "Drink now child," she insisted as she set the fouled bucket outside the door for one of the lower servants to empty and clean. "We'll have ya right as rain by the time yer young lord is home for supper."

After a few sips of tea, Bella laid back against the pillows. "Pray, cease speaking of food…"

Gerty tsk'ed. "Ya must eat lass. 'Tis good for the wee one in yer belly. Now sit up and finish yer tea and bread or I'll be havin' to speak with yer young lord about havin' the doctor 'round. He'll bleed ya for sure he will with as sickly as ye look."

Isabella's eyes went wide and she slowly struggled into a sitting position. Beginning to nibble the bread, she scowled at the old servant. "No doctor, do you hear Gerty? I am just fine…"

The old servant "hmph'ed" and hurried from the room as Isabella absently rubbed a hand over her belly with a sigh. Lady Mary—and all the other females in the home, for that matter—had told her that the sickness would cease by now, but it hadn't and she was doing her best to avoid having the doctor in, even going so far as to hide her sickness from her husband. The old midwife was bad enough, but the doctor terrified her, for his answer to every ailment seemed to be blood-letting and she knew—or at least Bella Swan knew the practice to be nothing more than medieval quackery.

Speaking of medieval practices, she'd been married to Carlisle now for six months and he'd gone out hunting each one of those months, only to return safely each time for which she was very grateful. Unfortunately, each safe return was doing nothing to assuage her stress and worry, especially now that he'd turned twenty and three.

She knew, from Bella Swans memories, this was the human age of vampire Carlisle, so it really was just a matter of time as long as he insisted on the hunts.

She'd begged him to cease several times now and every time had been gently rebuffed by him, but the last time she'd tried her father-in-law had been witness and had taken it upon himself to instruct his son in how to deal with a disobedient wife. She'd been mortified when he'd told his son she needed a sound thrashing to which Carlisle had merely nodded. He hadn't done it though and for that, she was ever thankful for she knew it was standard practice for the time. She just thanked Providence Carlisle had much too tender a heart to do such a thing.

Lying back once more after finishing the tea, she relaxed as well as she could while her child rolled and kicked under her hand. The sickness seemed to be unrelenting but the child was active and seemed to be healthy and for that, she was grateful.

As her stomach finally settled, her eyes grew heavy and she began to slip away into sleep, all the while wondering how everything would turn out.

The walk home from the church was a happy one this day for Carlisle Cullen. The sun was actually shining, the people were out in droves and calling out greetings to him as he passed by with a decided spring in his step. Yes, there was just no denying it; he was a happy and blessed man and he couldn't wait to get home to see his beautiful wife whom he loved more with each day that passed.

Stepping inside his home, he shut the door quietly before hanging his hat by the door. "Good even' Gerty," he greeted the old woman with a smile.

"Ah, there ye are young lord," Gerty returned as she bustled into the entryway. "I'll be taking yer cloak and gloves then," she said as she shoo'ed him away. "Ye need to be seein' to yer lady wife. She's been in a sickly way today and ye might have to be having the doctor in."

He looked at her sharply with a frown. "What ails my wife then?"

"She's sickly and takin' to her bed but has yet to take a fever."

Carlisle nodded absently and hurried from the room before the maid was even done speaking. It was good that Isabella didn't have a fever, but he knew with many ills, the fever mightn't be far behind. Just the thought struck terror in his heart and he quickened his pace.

Arriving at his rooms, he spied the bucket outside the door and his heart clenched in dread. He knew she'd been sick in her early days of carrying the babe, but the midwife had said it was normal and she would be past that now, so what could this be?

Opening the door quietly, he slipped inside and went to her side as she slept. Gerty was right; she looked much too pale and he could see where her hair had matted to her brow with sweat. He felt of her forehead and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it cool to the touch.

She moved then and sighed, as if sensing his presence and he smiled and smoothed her hair back despite his worry. "My Lord?" she mumbled as her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled when she saw him sitting there. "You're home," she breathed. "I'm happy to see you."

"Gerty has informed me you're ill. I believe 'tis time to fetch the doctor."

Her eyes widened and she clutched his hand. "No, my lord! 'Tis only the babe giving me a sick belly. I'll be fine!"

He frowned. "You know I indulge you as best I can, but the midwife said that should all be past. Now, no arguing, 'tis time the doctor see you. Let him be the judge. He is more learned in these matters than we."

Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. "I pray thee my lord, do not fetch the doctor. He will bleed me and I will be weaker for it."

His brow creased and he caressed her pale cheek. "You do not look well. You're much too pale. 'Tis true, I am heartened you do not yet have a fever, yet and still…"

"Please my lord…" she begged and her heart sank when he shook his head.

"Forgive me Isabella, but I do this for your good."

He rose from the bed and left the room and she turned her face to sob into the pillow.

~o0o~

Carlisle Cullen frowned and rubbed his forehead with the fingers of his left hand while he steered the car with his right. He'd been doing that a lot lately—frowning, that is—but his thoughts at the moment were particularly grim.

He and his family had just packed up and left their home in Forks, WA within a three day span all on the insistence of his first childe, Edward and his need to get far away from the human girl he'd been dating for the past few months. He felt they were a danger to the girl, and perhaps he was right…

He sighed and felt the hand of his companion and dear friend on his knee. He glanced over and she smiled sadly. "We'll get through this Carlisle. We'll be fine—Edward will be fine."

His finely arched brows drew together as he stared up the tree-lined winding road. "I don't know Esme. This feels so different from all our previous moves, no matter how rushed they were, they weren't like this… This one just feels…wrong."

Her brows inched up and she smiled. "Taking over Alice's job now are you Doctor?"

He chuckled, but his heart wasn't in it as he nodded. "Perhaps so Es…perhaps so…"

The vibrations of Esme's phone grabbed their attention and she answered it. "Yes Alice, what can I do for you?

"Esme, tell Carlisle we need to turn around and go back now please."

Esme glanced at Carlisle, both of them now looking very perplexed, particularly since Alice was Edward's main advocate in this move.

"Why would that be Alice?" Carlisle asked, knowing she could hear him easily. "You, along with Edward, were very insistent we leave after what happened at Bella's birthday. Now, out of the blue, we need to go back? Is there something you forgot, and if so, why does it take all of us to retrieve it?"

They both heard a weary sigh come from the tiny speaker before she answered. "I know I said this move was for the best—necessary even—but trust me when I say the necessary part has been fulfilled and now we must go back."

Carlisle was a patient being, he really was and he always did his best to see to the happiness of those in his family, but he could honestly say, his patience was wearing dangerously thin with this whole mess and it showed in his tone now. "Go back for what Alice and for how long exactly? I'm getting the distinct feeling this isn't just a trip back to get something we've missed."

Another sigh came through and Carlisle slowed and pulled over as they waited for Alice to answer. "It isn't Carlisle. We'll be going back for a while. The exact length of time I can't say, but it will be a couple of months at least."

"What about Edward?" Esme questioned. "Won't he be upset with all of us for this? He was vehement about this move Alice…"

"Yes, I'm aware Esme, but it's imperative we go back! Please…" Another sigh and her tone gentled. "Please, just trust me?"

Carlisle looked over at Esme and finally nodded. "All right Alice, we'll trust you. I'm turning around now and we'll see you all back at the house."

"Thank you Carlisle and Jasper has already called Em and Rose, so they know, not that Rose is very happy with me about it…" she grumbled just as Emmett's jeep passed them with a honk as they drove back to Forks.

"Oh! And before I forget, I already called the hospital and got everything straightened out with them. You're due to be back on duty this very night Carlisle, so get a move on!"

She hung up and Esme patted him on the knee as he made a u-turn and got back on the road. "Patience honey…have patience," she said with a smirk and a shake of her head.

~o0o~

"Welcome back Dr. Cullen," the young nurse greeted him with a smirk as he passed by. It seemed there was an overabundance of sarcasm to be had in the ER of Forks General this evening as she'd been the eighth member of staff to 'welcome' him back when he'd been 'gone' less than twenty-four hours.

"Thank you so much Karen," he smirked back. "Missed the place." Her laughter drifted back to him and he smiled as he approached the curtained off area of his next patient. When he got closer, he caught a familiar scent and sighed. It seemed this girl was forever being hurt, one way or another.

Pulling the file before announcing his presence, he was alarmed to see she'd been brought in by ambulance after being found unconscious in the woods. Not wanting to delay any longer, he knocked on the wall and drew back the curtain.

Ignoring Charlie Swan for the moment, he listened as the nurse and physician's assistant briefed him on her condition: slightly hypothermic, some minor abrasions on her right cheek and both hands but no other injuries. All attempts to wake her had failed. "Order a full CT scan and let me know as soon as the results come in. Until then, continue to monitor her vitals just in case complications arise," he instructed while making notes in her chart. When he finished that, he nodded to Charlie and left.

After seeing to other minor injuries for a couple of hours, a nurse approached with a report in her hands which she handed to him as he stood at the nurses station making notes in a chart. "Dr. Cullen, the CT scan report for the Swan girl."

He glanced up and smiled as he took it. "Thank you Lisa." He read it over quickly and made his way to her bed.

Poking his head behind the curtain, he gestured to Charlie and nodded toward the waiting room. "Charlie, join me for a moment and I'll tell you what I know so far."

Charlie followed him and they sat down facing each other. "How is she doc? What's wrong with her?"

"Well, there's good news and there's bad news. The good news is we can't find anything wrong with her, aside from a couple of small scrapes and a slightly lower than normal temperature when she got here. She's back to normal now, the CT scan was normal and everything looks very good. The bad news is she still isn't waking up no matter the stimuli. Now her state of consciousness can't really be classified as a coma at this point but we'll just have to watch and wait at this point. She may wake up quickly on her own or she may continue on the way she is in which case we'll do more extensive tests in a few days." He paused to let all of that sink in with the Chief before continuing. "Do you have any questions for me Charlie?"

Charlie looked up with barely concealed anger. "She went for a walk with your boy. I wanna know what the hell happened and why the hell he left her out there on her own. Why didn't he see her home safely?"

Taking a deep breath, Carlisle nodded and met the Chief's gaze. "I understand your concerns and I'll talk to Edward. I'll have him contact you so that he may answer your questions directly."

Charlie nodded sharply. "Good…that's good," he muttered.

Carlisle stood and placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "You have my card Chief. Call me with any questions or concerns. I'll do my best for Bella, we'll figure this out."

Charlie nodded. "Thanks Carlisle. I know you will."

**Your thoughts? 'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Previously: At the end of chapter 4, we got a peek at present-day Carlisle and Bella. Carlisle was called back to Forks and Bella was found unconscious in the woods where Edward left her. Carlisle tended to her at the hospital, but couldn't find anything wrong with her, although she remains unconscious.

Now, we join Isabella just after Carlisle left their bedchamber to summon the doctor. Happy reading if you're still with me, and if ya are, I'd love to hear from you at the end of the chapter! ~Spudz

* * *

~o0o~

**Chapter 5**

After Carlisle left their bedchamber, Isabella dried her tears and rose from the bed, determined to muster all the strength she could for the dreaded doctor's arrival.

She'd decided she would not let this happen. She'd fight with all she had to avoid any and all archaic treatment. She had to in order to protect her health and that of her unborn child.

With these thoughts in mind, she slipped out of her bed clothes and began to dress. She would meet the man with poise and determination rather than a weakened, bedridden state, no matter her husband's opinion on the matter.

Running her hands over the folds of her dress to smooth it into place, she walked to the vanity to make herself presentable. She'd need every advantage in order to pull this off and looking like a sickly waif wouldn't help her case in the least, she knew.

When she'd finished her grooming, she stared at her reflection for a moment, pinched some color into her cheeks and squared her shoulders. "Time to go defy your husband Isabella," she muttered. "May the good Lord help me…"

~o0o~

The sound of footsteps approaching the parlor caught Carlisle's attention as he cut short his conversation with his mother and shot to his feet as Isabella entered the room.

"Isabella, child, you should be abed!" Mary said.

Isabella ignored her husband and smiled at her mother-in-law as she seated herself in an adjacent chair. "I am fine, I assure you Mary, but thank you for your concern."

"You do have more color in your cheeks…" she conceded while glancing at her son.

Carlisle frowned, not only at his ailing wife's presence, but also because she had yet to meet his gaze. She was shunning him. He knew she was upset with his insistence upon summoning the doctor, but this was the first time she'd ever expressed any degree of ire. It was unsettling.

He stood and held out a hand to her. "I have sent for the doctor. Come, I will escort you back to our chambers. I insist you rest until he arrives."

Just then, the housekeeper entered the room and Isabella directed her attention to the woman while avoiding her husband. "Ah, Gerty! Would you be so kind as to bring us some tea?"

Gerty's eyes flitted between the scowling young Lord and his wife before dipping into a quick curtsy. "Right away Ma'am." She scurried from the room and Carlisle turned back to his wife.

"Isabella, I must insist you return to your bed. I will have tea brought to you." He held out his hand once again. "Come, I will see you there."

She waved a dismissive hand and smiled at a sheepish looking Mary. "That won't be necessary. I'm tired of lying abed, especially since I feel fine." She met his eyes and glanced away as he dropped his hand and moved back to his seat with a sigh.

"All right then, I'll allow it until the doctor arrives."

She frowned but refrained from any retort as Gerty entered with a tea service. "There you are my Lady," she said while setting a steaming cup on the table beside Isabella.

"Thank you Gerty," she murmured as she took the cup and sipped the soothing liquid.

"Will that be all?" the aged housekeeper questioned.

"Yes, thank you," Mary answered with a wave of dismissal and Gerty left the room, closing the double doors behind herself as the tension rose in the quiet room.

After preparing her own cup, Mary sat back and broke the silence. "I think you'll like Dr. Whitehall, Isabella. He's a kind and agreeable man and very knowledgeable." She stared at her daughter-in-law over the rim of her cup and couldn't help but notice the frown on the younger woman's face.

"I am sure you speak the truth Mary, but I have no need of his expertise as I am not ill."

She startled, almost spilling her tea at her husband's sharp tone when he spoke. "Not ill?! I arrive home to find you abed, looking as if the barest wind could bowl you over and you claim to be perfectly fine?!"

"Carlisle, your tone my son…" Mary murmured while laying a hand on his arm. His expression darkened and he looked away while Mary shot a sympathetic look at Isabella. "He is merely worried for your health child."

Despite the tension, Isabella maintained a cool facade. "I appreciate that, but his concern is unwarranted." She barely avoided wincing at Carlisle's scoff.

"You try my patience, wife," he said while pinning her with a frosty gaze. "It is my duty to see to your needs and those of my child. You will not defy me in this."

Isabella bristled and set her cup aside while meeting his gaze steadily. She marveled at her sudden temerity. She could never recall a time when she'd been so bold as it was considered unseemly for a woman of the times. Upon reflection, she could only attribute this new burst of rebellion to her added persona of Bella Swan and her decidedly more independent views, but whatever the cause, she would use it. She had to for the safety of her child.

With a bit of steel lacing her tone, she answered him. "I am not averse to being examined, but I will not consent to bloodletting in any form."

Mary cleared her throat and shifted in her seat as the young couple stared each other down, the tension crackling between them only breaking when the doors opened and Gerty entered to announce the arrival of Dr. Whitehall.

"Show him to my chambers Gerty. We'll be along in a moment," Carlisle said as he rose and held out a hand to his wife.

After the barest hesitation, she grasped it and rose while turning to Mary. "Thank you for the company Mary. I shall see you later."

Mary smiled despite the concern in her eyes. "Of course child."

"Mother," Carlisle said with a nod before placing Isabella's hand on his arm to escort her. "I'll see you at dinner."

With that, they left the room and ascended the stairs to their bedchamber where the doctor and Gerty now waited. Pausing at the door, he turned to her and cupped her cheek as his eyes searched hers. "Do not be cross with me," he pleaded before leaning down to brush her lips with his.

Stepping back, she stared into his eyes for a moment before backing through the door. He stood and watched it close with a click before leaning against the wall just beside it to wait, his fingers rubbing his eyes as he released a sigh. Minutes ticked by and he lost himself in thoughts.

He hated that she was angry with him, but he would do anything, including incur her ire, to assure her well-being and that of their child.

He was startled from his thoughts sometime later as the door opened and the doctor walked out. "Lord Cullen," he said with a nod.

"How is she?" he asked with a quick glance into the room before looking back at the amused doctor.

"Hale and hearty young Lord, and so is the child."

Carlisle furrowed his brow. "She looked so ill earlier…"

"Oh, aye, she was. T'was only a fleeting thing however, due to the babe in her belly. Perfectly normal for some, even at this latter stage, I assure you. I've given your maid some herbs to add to her tea. That should take care of it."

Carlisle sighed in relief. "My thanks to you Dr. Whitehall."

The doctor chuckled and patted his shoulder. "My pleasure young Lord. Now, go and see your Lady. I'll show myself out. Good day to you."

"To you as well," Carlisle said with a nod while turning to the door. He entered and nodded to Gerty as she finished tidying and left the room. He stood somewhat awkwardly before moving a chair next to the bed and taking a seat.

He observed silently for a moment as Isabella stared at her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting the edge of the linen sheet. "The doctor says you are well," he said and watched as she frowned before meeting his gaze.

"Just as I said," she reminded, her eyes flashing in indignation.

His lips curved into the barest smile as he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're very stubborn, did you know?"

Her eyes narrowed as she quipped, "Said the pot to the kettle…"

He chuckled with a nod. "My apologies my Lady wife, but I shall never leave your well-being to chance." He leaned forward and took her hand in his. "Will you forgive me?" She looked away and then glanced askance, seeming to think about it. He persisted. "If I were to take you for a stroll before dinner? The day is lovely…" He caught her gaze, his brilliant blue eyes expectant, and she sighed.

"Taking a bit of air does sound lovely…" she murmured and he smiled.

"Good," he said as he rose. "I'll send someone to assist you and await you in the library." He leaned down and kissed her, his lips lingering for a moment as she yielded and returned the kiss. Her eyes fluttered open as he whispered, his sweet breath fanning her cheek as he spoke, "I love you wife."

Her conscience nagged as she watched him smile and leave the room. She was still hesitant to allow herself to feel more than a deep regard for him. It was becoming harder and harder though to stifle the love she worked so diligently to deny; the love that only grew with each day spent with him. The same feelings that warmed her heart also served to terrify her as each day of his twenty third year ticked by.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and she called out. "Enter!"

The young maid entered and curtsied. "I'm to help ya dress for an outing my Lady."

With a sigh, Isabella threw back the covers and perched on the edge of the bed. "Yes," she answered. "Nothing too elaborate. I'll just be taking the air with my husband before dinner."

~o0o~

Isabella breathed deeply as she walked along on the arm of her husband, the fresh air and sunshine serving to bolster her spirits and bring a smile to her lips. They'd been strolling for a while now and it had taken time to shake her sullen thoughts and mood from earlier.

"Is that a smile I see on my lady's face?" Carlisle teased while caressing her hand on his arm.

"Your eyes do not fail you my Lord," she said while keeping her gaze forward.

He chuckled. "It gladdens my heart to see it. I feared you would be cross with me for some time yet."

Her smile fell. She didn't like when they disagreed and for the most part, she'd been able to avoid such instances except for the times they spoke of his moonlit hunts. She looked up at him. "I dislike being vexed with you. It unsettles me."

"Aye, I feel the same," he said with a nod.

He patted her hand. "Enough of the unpleasant," he redirected and she agreed with a nod as he looked down with a smile. "I've been thinking of what to name our child."

"Oh?" she questioned. "And have you something in mind?" She peeked at him and saw his grin.

"Well, I was considering William for a son and Elizabeth for a daughter." He glanced at her. "Does either please you?"

"Hmm," she mused, her eyes sparkling with joy at the thought of their baby. "Will or Beth… yes I do believe I like them."

Her breath caught when she looked at him. His smile was breathtaking and his eyes sparkled with love as he gazed at her. "You fill my heart with joy untold my sweet, beautiful Isabella." He glanced around at the people on the cobbled street before murmuring lowly. "And you make me long for the privacy of our chambers." He lifted her hand to place a lingering kiss on her fingers while his vivid blue eyes burned into her like flames.

She blushed and looked down. "You should not speak so in public my Lord."

His answering laugh was quiet and throaty while his eyes burned with promise. "Till later then my Lady," he said and her cheeks flushed anew even as a pleasant and familiar heat pooled low in her belly.

"Lord Cullen!" A voice unfamiliar to Isabella called out and her husband stopped and turned toward the man who approached.

"Ah, Gideon, good day to you," he greeted and the man smiled and tipped his hat.

"The best of days to you Lord Cullen, Lady Cullen," the man returned. "The lads and I was wonderin' if the hunt is on for this eve?"

Carlisle nodded. "I was delayed in getting back to the church this afternoon to confirm. My apologies, but yes, we will be going out this night."

Isabella sucked in a breath as her heart lurched with dread. Her hold tightened on Carlisle's arm and he glanced at her in concern as the man smiled.

"Very well, I'll let the lads know and we'll be ready." With another tip of his hat, he was off and Carlisle patted her hand as he turned them back toward their home and began walking.

"Must you go?" she asked as her vision blurred with unshed tears.

He tensed and she braced herself for his response. "We have spoken of this. These creatures are evil Isabella and now that I've seen them with my own eyes, yes, I must do my duty as a man of God. I must vanquish them."

A lone tear slipped down her cheek and he handed her his kerchief. "What of your duty as a husband—a father—what of that duty?" She pulled her hand from his arm and dabbed at her eyes. "You'll leave us bereft!"

He frowned and placed her hand back on his arm to continue their walk home. "The hunts are part of my duty to you and our child. While such evil exists, you are not safe." He looked down at her. "You are the wife of a clergyman. You knew what I was when you accepted my suit…"

She yanked her arm from his hold and glared at him. "Do not think me unaware of your distaste with your profession!" she said with quiet vehemence. "I know, if not for your father, you would never have chosen such a life for yourself."

His eyes narrowed and he glanced around at the surreptitious looks they were drawing from the crowds. "Isabella," he warned, "this is not the time nor the place to conduct such a discussion." He held out a hand to her. "Come, let us return home."

Shame quickly overrode her fear and anger upon seeing the attention she'd drawn and she took his arm once again, walking quietly at his side.

She broke the silence as they drew near to their home. "I fear for you," she admitted while looking at the cobblestones. She heard a quiet sigh while he gently squeezed her hand.

"We cannot live our lives in fear. I do the Lord's work. If it is His will, I will prevail. I will not turn aside from it. I cannot." He led her up the steps and into the house where he paused to hang their cloaks before escorting her to their chambers.

She walked to the window and stared out at the people bustling about below as she cried silently. His arms encircled her a moment later and he placed tender kisses on her neck. She tilted her head and shivered as her eyes slowly closed. "I love you," he breathed against her kiss-dampened skin. "I will stay safe…"

She leaned her head back against his shoulder. "No," she whispered too low for him to hear as his kisses continued. "You will not…"

Slowly, his fingers worked the laces on the front of her dress and he stepped back to sweep the garment from her shoulders, leaving her in a loose linen shift.

He turned her toward him and dried her tears with his thumbs as he leaned down and took her lips with his. It was tender and achingly sweet and she sobbed while opening to him fully.

He groaned and pulled her close as his tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her sweetness as she met him eagerly, her passion almost desperate as her hands tangled into his hair. He broke the kiss to trail his lips along her jaw and down her neck, his teeth nipping and tongue soothing the tender flesh as her hands worked to rid him of his coat and shirt.

When she'd loosened the garments, she backed away and swept her hands over his chest and shoulders, taking the clothing with them until the garments fell in a loose pile at his feet. "Beautiful…" she whispered as her hands trailed over his muscled chest. She leaned in and swirled her tongue around his darkened nipple and he gasped and buried his fingers in her luscious curls as his head dropped back while she sucked and nipped at the hardened bud.

"Isabella…" he muttered and she trailed kisses across his chest to give attention to the other side while her fingers worked the laces of his breeches.

She urged him back toward the bed while pushing his breeches down from his hips and he sat and watched with a heated gaze as she knelt and removed his boots and clothing, leaving him bare and ready. "Lie back my Lord," she urged while shedding her knickers and he scooted back against the pillows, his eyes lighting with curiosity as she climbed onto the bed and straddled him, her hands on his shoulders for support as her wet heat rubbed achingly over his hard cock.

He encircled her in his arms and pulled her close, his lips trailing searing kisses along the column of her throat between murmured words. "What do you propose, wife?" he questioned as his hand glided over her swollen belly.

Her face heated at his query. The standard positions Carlisle favored for lovemaking had become somewhat difficult for her as the months progressed and she, as Isabella, had no knowledge of a solution other than Carlisle taking her from behind. While she enjoyed that, she wanted him closer. She wanted to be able to see him…kiss him.

She, as Bella Swan however, did have a solution. Not from practical experience, but from the more liberal society of her time. Therefore, she wanted to try riding astride him, but now she was somewhat hesitant. How could she explain this to her husband?

Feeling him at her entrance, she decided to forego any discussion and wordlessly guided his cock with a hand as she took him into her tight heat with a breathy moan. He drew in a shocked breath before groaning as his hands went instantly to her hips while he thrust up into her.

"Isabella…" he groaned as his head fell back.

With her hands braced against his chest, she began to move slowly over him, tentatively rising and falling until she became adept. Then, she lost herself…

…in the heated look in his eyes as he watched her, his blue gaze hooded with lust as his breath panted out through parted, supple lips…

…in the way he worshiped her with his hands as they reverently glided over her body…

…and the feel of his thick, hard cock filling her time and again as she rode him.

He was perfect…

He was beautiful…

…and her heart ached with the knowledge that she would lose him, even as their passion climbed higher and higher until, with a cry and a groan, they peaked together as he pulled her into a kiss.

He felt her tears on his bare chest and cupped her face in his hands as he drew back to see her. "Why do you weep?" he murmured as he dried her cheeks with gentle fingers.

Averting her gaze, she shook her head and refused to give voice to her fears. She knew it would be for naught if she did, so she chose to remain silent. He'd made his views on his safety clear so instead of risking the same old argument, she tucked her face against his neck and soothed herself in his scent and warmth and the comforting throb of his pulse.

"Isabella?" he questioned. When she remained silent, he laid with her on the bed with a sigh as she curled herself around him. "Do not fear my love. All will be well," he murmured while rubbing her back and she closed her eyes and prayed he spoke the truth as she slowly slipped into sleep.

Carlisle laid with her for a while until his stomach rumbled in protest. "Isabella?" he shook her gently, trying to wake her for dinner but she merely grumbled and pushed his hands away as he quietly laughed. "Very well my love," he said as he sat up. "I'll leave you to your rest." A quiet hmm was her only response so he rose from the bed, covered her with a quilt and dressed for dinner. He would need the nourishment for the long night ahead.

Giving his cravat one final tug, he leaned down and kissed her softly. "Sleep well my Lady," he said before turning and leaving the room.

~o0o~

When he entered the dining room he hesitated for a moment, seeing only his father at the table. "Good evening Father. Is mother unwell?" he asked as he moved into the room and took his seat. A look and a grunt was Charles's only response as Carlisle unfolded his linen napkin and placed it in his lap.

A blushing serving girl placed the soup course before him and he whispered a prayer of thanks before beginning his meal in silence as his father eyed him over the rim of his wine glass.

"I'm told your wife is unwell?" Charles finally questioned, breaking the tense silence.

"She is merely resting. She was weary from our walk. I'll have dinner sent up to her later."

"Hmph," the older man grunted. "She seems a frail one, like your mother. Too frail to produce an acceptable heir."

Carlisle tensed and a muscle jumped in his cheek as he reached for his glass. After taking a slow sip, he met his father's mocking gaze. "She is fine father, just a bit tired," he said as he commenced eating.

After some moments, Charles raised his glass with a poisonous smirk. "As you say…son."

Carlisle's spoon clattered into his empty bowl and he motioned to the fidgeting serving girl. "Clear this, I am ready for the next course."

She dipped a curtsy. "Yes my Lord," she gushed as she cleared the bowl away and replaced it with the main course moments later.

"I expect true results from this night's hunt. I grow weary of your continued failures Carlisle. My patience wanes dangerously."

Carlisle clenched the hand that rested in his lap as he struggled to stifle his mounting anger. "We do the Lord's work in the Lord's time. Be it His will, we will see success."

Charles's eyes flashed with anger. "Our Lord helps those who help themselves. His work is never accomplished without effort, despite His holy will."

Carlisle slammed his fork onto the table while staring into his lap. "Every full moon I go on the hunt! In addition to my daily work at the church! Is that not effort enough for you?! You can demand no more from me!"

"Watch your words and tone with me my son. I am your father and you will honor and obey me without question," Charles seethed.

Carlisle dropped his head in instant deference, a lifetime of harsh conditioning under Charles's strap quelling his anger and spirit as he conceded. "As you say Father."

"Do not make the mistake of thinking you're too old to be chastened should I choose to do so." He paused for effect.

"Do not come back until you have killed or captured some of the evil that roams this city. I'll send you out every night if needs be, not just on the full moon, am I understood?"

"Yes Father," Carlisle answered even as his fist clenched so hard his nails drew blood in his palm.

"Good," Charles grunted while lifting his wine glass. "You've eaten enough. Be gone with you. Our Lord knows it won't hurt you to get an early start."

Carlisle placed his napkin by his plate and rose from his seat. Turning to his father, he bowed. "A very pleasant evening to you Father," he said before turning to the serving girl. "Please deliver dinner to my wife in my chambers and see to any other needs she may have. I will be very late this evening."

"Yes my Lord," she squeaked with a curtsy as Carlisle turned and left the room.

Snatching his cloak from the rack in the foyer, he donned it and yanked the door open, slamming it behind him when he'd exited. Furious didn't begin to describe what he felt at the moment and his long strides saw him to his destination in no time.

Throwing open the heavy oak doors, he strode down the center aisle of the empty church. He fell to his knees in front of the altar while staring up at the imposing moonlit cross as if it held all the answers. "Why does he hate me so?" he begged as years of pain and tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. "Will I never meet his expectations? Am I ever doomed to failure in his eyes? Why Lord… Why?"

He doubled over on himself, his forehead resting on his knees as he wept, his shoulders heaving with sobs as he finally broke and allowed himself to vent his pain and sorrow.

When the pain had dulled and the tears run out, he sat up and stared straight ahead while the silence, both in the church and his heart overwhelmed him. _'Where is God?'_ he thought, his mental tone bitter. _'Why are there never any answers for me? Never any respite…'_ Shame filled him almost instantly as his thoughts turned to all the less fortunate souls that he ministered to daily. Families with not enough to eat or the coin to keep clothes on their backs… _'Forgive me Lord,'_ he prayed. _'Let me always be mindful of your many blessing upon my life.'_

With that, he rose and retrieved a flint from the tinderbox to light a candle. When he'd done so, he knelt back at the altar and began to pray in earnest. He prayed for safety and prosperity for his parish, he prayed for his wife and child, he prayed that God would touch and soften his father's heart and lastly he prayed for success in the hunt. _'Father, allow me to find these creatures of evil and rout them from our midst. In Christ's holy name, I pray, amen,'_ he finished as he crossed himself and rose to his feet.

"Lord Cullen?"

He wiped the tears from his face and turned. "Good eve Gideon," he greeted.

"To you as well," his parishioner answered with a nod. "The lads are ready and waiting my Lord."

"Good, we'll pray and commence the hunt," he said as they walked from the church and closed the doors.

~o0o~

Isabella awoke to the smell of food just as her door closed softly. She sat up and peered around the darkened room, profoundly feeling the absence of her husband. _'So, he's gone to the hunt already,'_ she thought.

Sliding to the side of the bed, she stood and slipped her discarded knickers on under her shift before sitting at the small table where her dinner tray sat. Lifting the cover from the plate, she took up her fork and, after a quick prayer of thanks, began eating. While she ate, her thoughts fixed on the danger her husband was facing, yet again and her appetite vanished. Placing her fork down, she reached for the tea pot and poured a steaming cup of the brew, picked it up and took a bracing sip. "Much better," she muttered as the mildly bitter brew washed away the nauseating taste of her dinner. The food was excellent as usual but she couldn't manage it through her stomach clenching fear that seemed to worsen by the minute.

Rising from her seat, she began to pace, her bare feet padding quietly, back and forth across the open space of the room as her chest tightened and her hands shook. "What is wrong with me?" she questioned as she paused and stared at her unsteady hands. She crossed her arms over her chest and resumed pacing.

She'd always feared for him on such nights, but never to this degree and she wasn't sure how to quell it. "Husband," her trembling voice whispered. "Will this be the night?" Tears fell from her eyes as pain of anticipated loss nearly crippled her. "I cannot bear it!" she sobbed as her eyes fell on her discarded dress. Hope bloomed in her chest and she took it up and began to dress, her trembling fingers barely able to tighten the laces.

"I will stop this," she vowed to the silence as her hand caressed her rounded belly. "I will save him and change our fate. I will not have you grow up without a father."

So saying, she pulled on her shoes, crept down the stairs and snuck out of the house, pausing only long enough to don her heavy cloak before slipping out into the night.

**Your thoughts? Please review! **

**'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: Another chapter! Fasten your seatbelts kiddies. It's about to get bumpy. Never fear though, for I promise a happily ever after...after a fashion. *cackle* ~Spudz

P.S. Chapter 7 is already halfway done. Oh, and a shout out to the amazing Goldielover for the info on tea! Thank you again!

* * *

~o0o~

**Chapter 6**

Carlisle's hand rested on the hilt of his sword as the light of the full moon glinted off his gold locks. He and his companions now walked through the back alleys of the seediest part of town, the stench of human waste and rot heavy and choking in its intensity. He glanced at Gideon and James, his brow arched as they coughed and gagged even as he held his own perfumed kerchief over his nose. "Praise God we don't have occasion to get used to this stench lads. Now come, we have a long night ahead of us. Let us be about it."

The two nodded and followed him as he strode ahead into the deepest shadows where they began to spy the dregs of society. Grunts, groans, screams and moans from the dubious ladies of the night and their clients filled the putrid air… Shouts, breaking glass, hissing and laughter rang out as drunkards stumbled on their way or engaged in brawls, heedless of the excrement, piss and vomit they wallowed in. It all served to turn Carlisle's stomach and, not for the first time this night, he wished he'd forgone dinner.

Carlisle snarled as the clawed fingers of an old hag grabbed his arm, her rotting teeth displayed in a wide, drunken grin as she leered into his face. "Ruby'll treat ya right gov'na. Only a sixpence for such a pretty 'un. Whaddaya say love?"

"Get back!" Gideon hissed and brandished his sword as Carlisle shoved the woman away.

"Aw, come on love, tell ya what. You're so pretty ol' Ruby'll do ya for free!" She cackled madly and collapsed into a heap as the three men strode away.

When they'd finally made their way through the crowd, James gestured at an alley. "Let's try that one," he said as Carlisle breathed through his kerchief to rid himself of the memory of the old hag's breath. James and Gideon looked to him and he nodded and stowed the kerchief.

"'Tis likely as any," he agreed and they turned into the mouth of the alley.

It was long, shrouded in shadow and appeared to be empty of whores which, at the moment, Carlisle considered a blessing. "Let's go lads," he murmured and walked forward.

They'd gone about a block when an unearthly hiss sounded ahead of them followed by guttural growls and ear-splitting screeching noises as dust and pieces of bricks began to tumble down from the buildings on either side of the alley. They tried to see through the deep shadows in the alley, but the moonlight was blocked by the buildings and what movement they could see was blurred like fleeting streaks of cream in black coffee. Gideon looked at Carlisle with wide eyes. "What is that?!" he whispered, his sword at the ready.

"I know not, but prepare yourselves," he said while drawing his own sword. He glanced at the men and they nodded as they began to advance toward the obvious fight.

Another screech and what sounded like a scream of pain from a male froze them in their tracks as James clutched at Carlisle's shoulder. The hand trembled and Carlisle glanced at the young man. "M—my Lord! We should not tarry here! Pray, let us leave!"

Before Carlisle could answer, something flashed by from the dark and James was…gone. There was no other way to describe it…he'd just vanished. Gideon whimpered and the smell of fresh piss rose up from where he stood, shaking and wide eyed. "What…what just happened?!" Gideon asked through quivering lips.

"I…" Carlisle shook his head as words failed him and he crossed himself before taking several more steps forward. He glanced back and saw Gideon rooted to the spot and shaking his head. "N—no my Lord! We cannot!"

Carlisle walked back to the frightened young man and grasped his shoulder. "We must remain together!"

"Bu—but something took James!" he wailed as tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped from his chin and jaw.

"Our strength is in God, Gideon! Take comfort and find courage in that! He shall not forsake us! We must continue on! We mustn't allow this evil to prevail!"

Gideon mopped his cheeks with his sleeve and swallowed thickly with a nod. "Yes my Lord," he muttered and Carlisle nodded.

"Right then," he said and began walking forward once more as Gideon fell into step next to him, both with swords at the ready. They both flinched however, when another unholy shriek rang out followed by a deep growl, the likes of which neither man had ever heard before.

"My Lord?" Gideon uttered just before something slammed into his body, throwing him back several feet as he screamed in terror. Carlisle swung blindly with his sword encountering nothing and sucked in a shocked breath when a body appeared seemingly from nowhere to crouch over the crumpled form of his sobbing companion. "Move away from him!" he shouted and the crouched being slowly turned its head to look at him, its eyes glittering darkly in its deathly-pale face as a sinister smile curved its lips. "Mine," it said.

In horror, Carlisle watched as the creature lifted a whimpering Gideon in its arms and disappeared just as he swung his sword at it. He panted and peered around the deep shadows, his sword gripped in both hands in front of him. Now he was alone with only the occasional low growl and hiss echoing from the darkness ahead of him.

Closing his eyes, he whispered a prayer and began walking ahead toward whatever awaited him. As carefully as he moved, he still stumbled over something. He looked down and when his eyes had adjusted, he stared in horror at a twitching, disembodied leg.

Leaning over quickly, he vomited what little dinner he'd managed to eat and coughed a couple of times before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. It was then he realized he was crying as he mopped at the rest of his face before hefting his sword once again. "What evil is this?" he muttered while clenching his eyes closed for a beat. "Father God, help me, I pray thee!"

With that, he moved forward once again toward the growls and hisses and the closer he drew, the more his fear and terror mounted for he could now see a legless body propped up against the building, a feral look on its face as it stared at him. "Come," it beckoned with a hand. "Help me," it implored and Carlisle shook his head even as he drew closer. He could now see the thing was also missing an arm and his stomach lurched again. Mercifully, he had nothing left to expel so he gagged and crept forward, intent on taking the creature's head with his sword.

When he got close enough, he swung with his sword and cried out as the percussion from the blow traveled from the blade and into his arms. _'It's as though I've struck stone!'_ he shrieked in his thoughts as the thing growled and hissed. "How…?" Carlisle uttered as he stared and the thing laughed at him and then lunged.

Carlisle fell back, his useless blade clattering to the cobbles and he struggled and tried to scoot away from the creature who'd clamped onto his leg with its one hand. To his horror, it dragged him forward effortlessly and clamped its teeth through his boot and onto his leg. He screamed in terror and pain. It felt as though his leg was set aflame and he kicked at the creature's head with his free leg as it struggled to feed from him. To his shock and relief, the creature lost its hold, taking a piece of his boot with it while growling loudly. Carlisle scrambled to his feet and quickly limped away as pained whimpers escaped his clamped lips.

Behind him, the creature laughed. "You think you've escaped, do you?" He laughed again and the next words out of its mouth would haunt Carlisle for eternity. "No my friend, it's only just begun!"

Hot tears ran down his cheeks as he struggled to put as much distance as possible between himself and the creature—the creature that had taken his best sword stroke to its neck unscathed! _'How was such a thing possible?!'_ he wondered frantically. _'How was it even alive after having lost three of its limbs?'_

A moan escaped him as the burning spread farther up his leg and he fell, barely catching himself with his outstretched hands as his disheveled blond hair fell into his eyes.

Struggling back to his feet, he supported himself on the rough brick wall as he inched forward toward a building that looked inhabited—an inn perhaps?

As he drew closer to a more populated area, his heart sank as he heard the faint sound of his wife's voice calling for him. "Carlisle! Carlisle Cullen! Please my Lord! Where are you?!"

Propping himself against the wall, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes as sorrow filled him. Why was she out? How did she make it here? Was she alone?

He knew he had to get to her but the burning…the _indescribable pain_ was making it hard to think, much less act but through sheer strength of will he pushed away from the wall and hobbled toward her voice. "Isabella?" he called, the pain making his voice crack. "Isabella, I am here!"

"Carlisle?! I hear you! Where are you?"

He wiped the tears from his face and called out, "Here love, in the alley!"

A crying, cloaked figure emerged from the shadows and fell against him as her hands clutched to his coat. He wrapped his arms around her trembling form with a pained sigh and she looked up into his face. "Are you well my Lord?" she asked with wide, tear-filled eyes as her hands began to search his body for wounds. "What ails you?!"

He tried to speak and failed, as the burn made its way through his bloodstream.

She cupped his cheeks. "Carlisle, please, speak…" she begged.

"I—I am not well," he choked out. "The cre—creature bit me. Burns…like fire…" He gasped and clenched his eyes shut while gritting his teeth as she wailed and buried her face against his chest.

"No! No, no, no!" she cried and beat her hands against his chest before looking up at him. She grabbed his face as she tried to control her tears. "Carlisle, hear me! You will…change now. You are becoming one of them—a—vampire," she choked and he shook his head violently.

"No! I cannot!" He pointed toward where he'd come from. "Back there…my sword…" She gasped as he grabbed her face and stared into her eyes. "Retrieve it and end this!"

She pulled back in horror, shaking her head in denial. "I cannot!"

He grit his teeth and growled. "You must! I must not become that which I abhor. I beg thee wife, end me now!"

A slap echoed through the alley and his head snapped to the side as she looked on him with horror. "How could you ask such a thing of me?!" Tears spilled from her eyes and dripped onto her cloak as he groaned.

"The pain!" he gasped. "I am in Hell already…" He collapsed to the ground and she followed and held his face gently.

"Husband, hear me. You must survive this! We must hide you away until it's finished. I cannot tell you how I know, but you will be a fine man, even after this!"

His only answer was to writhe and moan lowly, but his eyes were open and focused on her. He was listening so she kept speaking. "When this is through, go to the forest. There you will learn to feed from animals." His brow furrowed and she continued. "You can control this! You will not be a killer!" She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to his lips. "You will be a great man," she said as tears traced down her cheeks. "Trust in this, please. Now, we must hide you…"

She peered around the alley and looked back at him. "Can you make the journey to our home?"

His eyes widened and he shook his head. "My father…" was all he choked out and she nodded while stroking his cheek.

"All right," she soothed as best she could. "He is not a forgiving man, I understand." She looked around again and rose to her feet. Spying a slanted door at the base of the inn wall, she walked to it and grasped the handle. It was heavy and she struggled to lift it, but she managed to throw it open before going back to him. "Just over yon is a root cellar. Can you manage?"

"I shall try," he rasped while struggling to his feet. She wrapped an arm around his waist and guided his arm over her shoulders, both of them almost tumbling down before he finally gained balance.

The thirty odd feet to the root cellar door seemed insurmountable as they inched along, but they finally made it. Then she looked down into it and whispered, "The stairs…oh Lord help us…"

"Let me go," he said, already slumping down to the ground so she bent and removed his arm from around her shoulders.

"Carlisle!" she cried as he pitched forward through the door and tumbled down the steps. She made to follow and he held up a hand as he sat up in the shaft of moonlight that now peeked over the rooftops.

"Leave me," he demanded. "Go home. Be safe." He gasped and moaned. "I—I love you and tell—tell our child I love them too."

"Carlisle…" she sobbed.

"Go!" he shouted. "Leave me!" He crawled to a corner and hid himself behind some wooden crates. Peeking out, the last thing he would ever see as a human was her face, tear stained and filled with sorrow as she slowly closed the door.

***sheepish grin* Still with me? LOL **

**Please review! I'll love ya for it! **

**'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: While I know Carlisle was most likely bitten on the neck (I surmise this from what he said in the books about changing Edward: that he'd replicated his own wounds simply because he thought he'd had to, and Edward was obviously bitten on the neck), I'm never one to stick to canon. LOL I usually change things up as the mood strikes. I mulled over having the vamp bite him on the neck, but that always seemed an unlikely scenario for his survival. About as likely as a sickly vampire who was too weak to finish the job, so I came up with my own version of events. Thanks to you all for reading and reviewing and sticking with me even through my penchant for changing things up! Love to you, ~Spudz

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_Previously:_

_"Leave me," he demanded. "Go home. Be safe." He gasped and moaned. "I—I love you and tell—tell our child I love them too."_

_"Carlisle…" she sobbed._

_"Go!" he shouted. "Leave me!" He crawled to a corner and hid himself behind some wooden crates. Peeking out, the last thing he would ever see as a human was her face, tear stained and filled with sorrow as she slowly closed the door._

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~o0o~

**Chapter 7**

Carlisle Cullen walked into the door of his home in Forks, WA and smiled at the familiar scene that greeted him.

Esme, his wife, was arranging fresh cut flowers in a crystal vase while Emmett and Jasper battled it out in a video game in the living room. Alice was draped into a chair with her laptop, fingers flying over the keys and Rosalie absently flipped through a magazine while smirking at the boys' antics. It was as though they hadn't left the place at all…

He sighed. The only constant missing was Edward who could usually be found at his piano this time of day.

After moving back in at Alice's insistence, he'd called his first son to let him know. Needless to say, Edward hadn't been happy. He'd been even less pleased to hear of Bella's condition, but curiously, to Carlisle at least, he hadn't offered to come home, instead insisting that they all stay away from her.

A sticky situation since Carlisle was her primary physician, also something Edward didn't appreciate being reminded of.

In the end, Carlisle had agreed to distance the Cullen family from the girl as much as feasible… _'When—if—she finally awakes from her mysterious slumber'_ he thought.

Placing his bag down by the table in the foyer, he smiled at Esme as she kissed his cheek. "Hello sweetheart. How's your day so far?"

He smirked. "Uneventful and routine."

"Wonderful!" she chirped with a grin. "We like those kinds of days."

Loosening his tie, he muttered, "We do indeed."

Taking a seat on the couch, he leaned his head back and sighed as Esme sat next to him. "And Bella?" she said tentatively. "How is she?"

Cracking open an eye, he turned his head and glanced at her. "The same I'm afraid. All tests come back negative and still, she sleeps. Nothing reaches her, but her brain activity is indicative of conscious thought. It's very unusual. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"That's a good thing though, right?" Esme questioned with a pinched brow. "That means she's still with us, doesn't it?"

"Well, normally I would say yes, but this is Bella we're speaking of and as usual—nothing is quite _usual_ with her. With those kinds of test results, one would expect her to be conscious and holding conversations—it's as though she's there, but entirely disconnected from her body as no external stimuli reaches her. I must admit…I'm stumped."

Alice quit typing and smirked. "She'll be fine," she said and went back to typing.

Carlisle narrowed his eyes at her. "What have you seen Alice?"

She shrugged a shoulder as a smile curved her lips. "Just trust me, she's fine."

"While I'm grateful for your input Alice, that doesn't help me soothe Charlie in the least." He sighed. "The man's ready to transfer her to Seattle for further tests and a second opinion."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Oh, he'll speak to the neurologist there, he's already decided, but the man will tell him you're the best there is, so no worries Carlisle, Bella's staying right here." She went back to typing and Carlisle looked at Esme with raised brows. She smiled and shook her head.

"That's our Alice…"

Rosalie tossed her magazine on the table. "No offense," she began but Emmett cut in with a muttered, "Uh oh." Glaring at the back of her husband's head, she continued, "As I was _saying_… No offense, but why do we care? She was Edward's little human toy. Now he's tossed her away and isn't interested in coming back. Cut ties, end of story."

Carlisle looked thoughtful before giving a nod. "While I see your point, Edward is part of this family and she is damaged due to his actions." He pointedly ignored Jasper's guilty flinch. "Just because he isn't willing to rectify this situation doesn't mean we should shirk our responsibility. I'll do my part to see her healthy again and then we can reassess."

She pursed her lips and then shrugged with a nod. "That's acceptable," she agreed and picked up her magazine again.

Esme smiled at her husband and grabbed his hand. "Come, let's retire to your study."

He quirked a brow at her but took her hand and followed, curious to find out what she had in mind.

Initially, after saving her from death in that awful morgue by turning her, he'd married her because it was unseemly for a woman to live with two young men without such a proper connection. It just wasn't done in polite society and sending her off on her own as a newborn wasn't something he'd consider so they'd gone ahead with it.

While they were now the very best of friends, the majority of their marriage had been in name only. They'd shared a few awkward encounters in their first year together, but they'd been few and far between, partly due to his less than passionate feelings for her but also due to the emotional damage she'd suffered at the hands of her first husband.

Consequently, they'd both decided they were much better as friends, and they'd left it at that, never bothering to sever the marriage. It was great as a cover story after all and it kept the majority of woman off his scent, so to speak.

Once the door to his study was closed and he'd taken a seat on the sofa, Esme turned to him with a knowing look. His brow furrowed and he waited.

Finally, she leaned against the front edge of his desk and sighed. "Carlisle," she began and then faltered, looking toward the window. She wasn't sure how to broach this subject. Decades ago, she'd found the aged picture of the young woman he kept at the bottom of his desk drawer; a picture of a woman that looked exactly like Bella Swan. That, coupled with the bits and pieces he'd let slip through the years, had allowed her to put the pieces together although she suspected the story to be much more complex than a simple lost love…

Tilting his head a bit, he studied her thoughtful expression for a moment before speaking. "What is it Esme? Something troubling you?"

Finally, she looked back at him. "I've seen the way you look at her, you know?"

The expression on his face instantly shifted to bland indifference and she smiled softly as she watched his defensive walls click into place.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

She tilted her head. "How long have we been friends dear?"

He looked away. "A very long time," he murmured.

She nodded. "Yes, a very long time, so I feel pretty confident in saying I know you backwards and forwards. Put simply, you can't bullshit me doc."

He smirked at her with an arched brow. "Esme Ann, I'm shocked. You've been spending too much time with Emmett and Jasper."

Her expression was flat as she stared him down. "And _you're_ deflecting…"

He frowned and glanced away. "Edward's in love with her," he stated and she scoffed.

"Edward—bless his heart, you know I love him…but Edward is not in love with Bella. Intrigued? Yes. Obsessed? Most certainly… But in love? Not even close."

He frowned and bounced the foot that was propped over his knee, a classic sign of his discomfort, she knew and it made her smile. "It's time for honesty Carlisle, if not with me, then surely with yourself."

She knew she'd gotten through when he hung his head and sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose, another classic sign from Carlisle, one of resignation or less often, frustration. Perhaps it was a bit of both in this instance? She waited for him to speak to decide.

When all she got was silence, she frowned. "You love her," she stated, knowing in her heart of hearts it was true. He clenched the hand that rested on his thigh, his expression conflicted as he raised his head to look at her.

"I don't know what I feel, Es. I don't know what _to_ feel..."

She moved to the sofa and sat next to him, taking his hand in hers and tilting her head down to meet his eyes. "It's her…isn't it? The girl from your past? The girl from the photo?"

"I don't know!" he answered, his tone stressed as he looked up to meet her gaze. "How can it be her—my Isabella—when she only knows me as Edward's father figure? I was a total _stranger_ to her when we met, Es! It can't possibly be her…she didn't know me," he murmured sadly. "My Isabella _always_ knew me when we met through the years…always…and she _doesn't_."

He planted both feet on the floor and held his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees as he stared unseeingly at the floor.

Esme placed a gentle hand on his back as her heart broke for this man; the man who had saved her from death and cruelty and sorrow, instead giving her life and joy and a family. She had nothing but love in her heart for him; familial love and she owed him so much…everyone in their family did. "Carlisle," she said. "This whole thing is far from over. Alice said Bella will be fine. When she wakes, we'll go from there, but if you have feelings for her, I _urge_ you to give it a chance. If you don't, I've a feeling you'll always regret it."

He sat up and met her gaze before a wry smile curved his lips. "Taking over Alice's job now, Es?"

She laughed and smacked his shoulder. "Shut it, you."

He laughed and they both leaned back on the sofa, her head resting against his shoulder. For moments, they sat in silence, both deep in thought until Esme finally spoke. "Carlisle?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you ever change her?"

She felt him tense and stroked his bicep with her hand as she waited for his answer. He exhaled heavily. "Well," he said, his tone laced with regret, "You know my views on cursing someone to this existence…"

She nodded and settled back to finally hear the story.

**Your thoughts? 'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Regarding many of your questions; all will be answered in time. Remember, it's a journey! LOL A heartfelt thanks to those who take the time to review. This is for you. ~Spudz**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

A/N: Just a quote to clarify my view that Carlisle considered the vampire existence a curse and that he would be reluctant to change anyone that was not near death:

"I think, in most other ways, that I've done the best I could with what I had to work with. But was it right to doom the others to this life? I can't decide."

Carlisle Cullen, p. 38, New Moon

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~o0o~

Eager eyes watched as the small child ran through the grass, his tinkling laughter floating through the air as he chased a fluttering butterfly.

Just over five years old now, the child was breathtaking, with skin like peaches and cream and curls of the finest spun gold brushing his collar. Just the sight of him made the watcher's heart ache and he wondered, as he always did, what color the boy's eyes were…

Perhaps today, he would allow himself close enough to see…

The watcher's breath hitched as the boy tripped and fell, the sounds of his distress reaching him in an instant and before he could reconsider, he'd hopped down from the tree he was hiding in and approached the whimpering child.

He knelt, helped the boy up, dusted off his short breeches and straightened his doublet. "There now," he said while dabbing at the scrape on his knee with his kerchief. He then licked his fingertip and swiped it over the scrape, healing it instantly. When he was through, the boy's tears had stopped and he was looking at him with wide eyes.

"Are you an angel?" the child asked in wonder as the rays of the sun glinted off the watcher's pale skin and bright blond hair. The watcher smiled sadly.

"No little lord, I am not."

"You look like an angel," he persisted. "Mother told me they are creatures of light and very beautiful…like you."

The watcher stared into innocent, warm, brown eyes—'the exact shade of hers,' he thought—while caressing the boy's baby-soft cheek with gentle finger tips.

"They are, sweet child," he murmured. "But I am not counted among them." He gently chucked the child under his chin. "I do believe you might be though," he said with a sad smile and was gratified as the boy grinned back.

The sound of heavier footsteps approaching had the watcher looking up sharply as he stood and moved to hide in the thick branches of the trees. "Go now child, your mother seeks for you," he whispered and the little boy smiled while executing a perfect little bow. Pride swelled in the watcher's chest at the sight.

"My thanks to you, sir," he said politely before turning and running toward his mother.

"William!" she called. "William Carlisle Cullen, where are you?"

The watcher's eyes closed as her voice rang out, the familiar sound of it bittersweet as it pierced him through with pain and remembered joy. Then he opened his eyes and drank in the sight of her as she stopped to peer around for the child, a hand shading her eyes from the bright sun as she did so. She was still as lovely as ever and his whole being ached afresh at his loss.

A bright smile curved her lips when she spied her son and she held her arms open as he ran to her.

"Mother," he yelled.

She bent down and scooped him up and he giggled as she planted little kisses just under his jaw.

"What mischief have you been up to young man?" she asked and he leaned back in her arms and frowned.

"I wanted to catch a butterfly for you, but I tripped and fell." He pointed to his knee and she gently grasped his leg to look at it. Her brow furrowed as the small, pale-pink patch glittered in the sunlight.

"Oh my dear little Will, does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "No," he said. "The angel man helped me and now it doesn't hurt a bit."

She looked up sharply and the watcher sank back into the foliage. "Angel man?" she questioned while still looking intently toward the trees. "William, what did he look like?" she asked quietly, her heart now pounding.

The boy fiddled with the buttons on her blouse as he answered. "He had hair like mine," he said with a smile, "and golden eyes!" Her breath caught and the boy scrunched his face and looked up at her. "Do all angels have golden eyes like him, Mother?"

"I—I do not know," she murmured as she set him on his feet. "Perhaps they do." Bending down, she turned him toward home and patted his bottom. "Back to the cottage with you, young man. 'Tis time to eat and your Grandfather is there and would like to see you."

"Yes, Mother," he said and ran off.

When he was out of sight, she turned toward the trees, one hand held to her chest. "Carlisle? Is it you?" she whispered while clutching a fistful of her skirt and walking toward the trees. She stopped and listened a moment before calling out again, "Are you there?" She advanced a few more steps. "Please, if you are, please show yourself. Please, speak to me," she begged.

His eyes closed, all his muscles locked in place as he struggled against his longing. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to feel her in his arms again… "I—I should not…" he murmured just loud enough for her to hear and a small cry left her lips as her eyes frantically searched for him.

"Please! It's been so long…" she begged and stepped forward.

His head dropped. "Halt," he said, his tone thick with emotion. "Stay where you are. Come no closer and I will…show myself."

"Agreed," she whispered as tears now traced her cheeks.

He stepped out slowly and stopped, peering at her with his head lowered in shame as rays of sunlight glinted off his exposed skin.

She gasped and covered her mouth as a cry left her and she reached toward him with a hand. "Oh Carlisle," she murmured. "You are…_beautiful_."

He held up a hand and looked away, his head bowed. "I am an abomination; something to be reviled and feared, not looked upon in wonder!"

A sob bubbled up from her and she shook her head, eyes wide in disbelief. "Look at me," she demanded but he stubbornly refused. She took another step forward and he stepped back.

"No! Come no closer, I say!"

"_Look_ at me!" she said fiercely, her brown eyes blazing with anger at his display of shame.

Slowly, he turned his head and met her gaze.

"In my heart," she said, her voice trembling with emotion, "I _knew_ you would not be a killer and your eyes prove this to be true. You are _not_ an abomination Carlisle Cullen! You are my husband and the father of my son!"

He scoffed. "Your husband and father of your son died in that alley of evil and filth as was only fitting Isabella. Be not fooled by this pleasing countenance!That _man_ is no more!"

She clenched her fists. "My husband—William's father," she hissed, "stands before me this very moment with a good and pure heart, damn the countenance!"

His face twisted with pain and desperation and he struck his chest with an open hand. "No heart _beats_ in this body Isabella! My blackened soul lives on the blood of God's creation! I am a child of perdition! Nothing more, can you not see?!"

She swiped at the tears on her face, her chin jutting out as she determined to drive her point home, no matter the pain she knew her words would cause. "If you have no heart Carlisle Cullen, then why are you here? Have you and your _blackened soul_ come to kill me?" she spat as she stepped closer. "Have you, _child of perdition_," she sneered, "come to kill our son?"

He hissed in pain and outrage at the thought. "No!" he shouted before lowering his voice. "I would never…_could_ never…the mere _thought_ of such a thing…" he stammered while rubbing his chest. He met her angry, tear-filled gaze with his own sorrow filled one. "I would walk into a pyre to keep from hurting either of you or anyone for that matter. That is why I've kept my distance…'till now." He bowed his head. "I—I _longed_ to see you…to see my child." He looked up, his gold eyes imploring. "The pain of losing you…I prayed for the solace of death with the dawn of each day and _each_ _day_ it was denied me! God forsook me and left me to suffer alone as I learned to resist the evil of my existence. I forced myself to gorge on the blood of animals while denying the monster's true prey. When I could finally do that without going mad with thirst, I ventured into the city, taking in the scents, drawing closer and closer to people 'till I could walk among them without a murderous madness seizing me. Only then… _Only then_, Isabella, did I allow myself to search for you."

She stepped closer and he allowed it.

"Do you not _see_?" she pleaded as fresh tears ran down her cheeks. "Were you truly a child of perdition, if your soul was black as you claim, you'd give _no_ thought to killing."

He looked away and she took a step closer. "Have you taken a life Husband?"

"I have not," he admitted before looking back at her as she took the final steps to reach him.

"Husband," she whispered as her hand reached out to cup his cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned into her touch.

"Wife," he murmured and caught her as she fell into his arms. "How I have missed you…"

She tucked herself into his hold as closely as possible and stayed there, just relishing the feel of his arms around her and his solid form under her cheek until the faint sound of a voice broke their peace.

"Isabella?! Daughter, where are you?"

"It's my father," she murmured as Carlisle tensed.

He closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head before gently pushing her away. "You must go," he urged.

She clung to his doublet and stared into his eyes. "I'll only go if you say that I'll see you again."

He smiled sadly and ran the pad of his thumb over her plump bottom lip. "You will see me again," he agreed.

"When?" she demanded and watched as he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

"'Tis not meet that you grow attached Isabella…"

She grasped his face with both hands, her stare fierce as she held his gaze. "Grow attached?" she hissed. "You vowed to be my husband 'till death! You are _not_ dead and I hold you to your vow Husband mine, now, when shall I _see_ you again?"

He glanced behind her at the sound of approaching footsteps. "On the morrow," he whispered and disappeared just as Lord Bouchard found her.

She stood, gazing into the trees as she dried her eyes.

"Isabella?" her father questioned. "Is aught amiss?"

She turned and smiled sadly as she took his arm and began to walk with him back to the cottage. "No father. All is fine. I was simply taking a moment to myself."

**Your thoughts? Please review!**

**'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: As always, if you enjoy it, please review! My thanks to all who do! Happy reading! ~Spudz

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~o0o~

_Previously:_

_He [Carlisle] glanced behind her at the sound of approaching footsteps. "On the morrow," he whispered and disappeared just as Lord Bouchard found her._

_She stood, gazing into the trees as she dried her eyes._

_"Isabella?" her father questioned. "Is aught amiss?"_

_She turned and smiled sadly as she took his arm and began to walk with him back to the cottage. "No father. All is fine. I was simply taking a moment to myself."_

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~o0o~

**Chapter 9**

Branches snapped and dry leaves whirled and settled in his wake as he chased his prey through the dappled forest.

He'd hunted just the day before, but he wouldn't take any chances with the precious lives of his wife and child and so he surged forward and locked the frightened buck in his grip as his teeth pierced its artery all in one smooth, graceful motion.

He closed his eyes against the sights around him as he fed, the ever present shame of what he was, drowning him as his thoughts raced.

He'd spoken to her—to his son. He'd even touched them and held her, something he thought lost to him forever! The vivid memory of doing so caused a thrill in his chest, tinged as it was by shame and trepidation. How could he, such an unclean being, have allowed himself such liberties?!

He dropped the drained deer and backed away to sit at the base of a tree, his head tilting back to lean against the rough bark.

How could he allow himself to go back? To interact with them? What was she expecting? Did she think to have him as her husband again? That a normal life was even possible? He snorted in disgust at such a notion…

No, he thought. He would have to see her one last time and make his position clear. They would have to live without him. She would never again know him as her husband. His son could never know him as a father. He would not risk them in such a way…

He'd been weak in seeking them out, he admitted to himself. He'd known better, but the ache… The loneliness… The soul-deep longing… He'd been unable to resist and now they were in danger because of it…because of him.

"Oh Isabella," he murmured. "Ever will I beg your forgiveness for what I am…for what I've become…and for what I must do…

He slowed his pace and crept forward, silent and unseen as the trees thinned and the quaint cottage in which his wife and son resided came into view.

She was there, waiting, her skirts spread on a blanket beneath the shade of a mighty oak and his breath caught at the sight of her, just as lovely as ever.

Her expression was one of peace as she closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the rays of sunlight that filtered down through the branches. He watched as her plump, blushing lips curved into a smile as she turned to face where he was hidden. "Carlisle…" she whispered as her eyes slowly fluttered open.

_'How…?'_ he wondered.

His fists clenched from the turmoil that gripped him. It was so good to see her…such a rare and treasured pleasure, but bittersweet because he knew it would be all too fleeting…

He stepped forward and her smile grew as she caught sight of him. She held out a hand in invitation. "Come," she beckoned. "Sit with me."

Silently, he walked forward and sat across from her as she took his hand. "You honored your word," she stated with a smile and a kiss to his hand.

"I did," he acknowledged with a nod and a wan smile of his own.

A tiny frown creased her brow at the shadows she saw in his eyes. "What is it Husband? What troubles you?"

He stared down at the hand she held. "My presence here is a danger to you."

Her frown deepened. "Carlisle, we spoke of this…"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "No, hear me, I beg you. 'Tis not only me that's a danger wife. There are others…of my kind." He looked into her eyes. "I was careful and made certain no one followed, but my scent…I leave a trail. There is no way to avoid doing so. If—if they looked to appease their curiosity, my trail would lead them straight to you, do you see?"

Her expression clouded and tears filled her eyes and spilled over. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that I cannot risk you or our son."

She looked down and tears dripped onto their clasped hands, her voice breaking as she spoke. "You're saying you will not see me again…"

He steeled himself, his tone flat, final as he affirmed her fears. "I will not."

She yanked her hand from his, her gaze hot with pain and anger as she stared at him. "Did it require the entire night to dream up this excuse? Almost from the moment I saw you again you were seeking a reason to leave!"

His eyes widened. "No! My heart aches with want of you! How could you accuse me thusly?"

Her teary eyes narrowed. "Have you been followed in the past?"

He nodded. "Aye, twice."

"Twice in five years?"

"Aye," he admitted.

She lunged forward and he fell back as she loomed over him. Whispering, her lips a hairs-breadth away from his, she told him, "I judge you worth the risk."

He was drowning in scent and sensation and his eyes closed as she kissed him. He met her carefully but with passion as they opened to each other, their tongues delving and tasting as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

He rolled and pinned her beneath him and she gasped and smiled through her tears while cupping his cheek. "I dreamed of this day…" she murmured. "And now here you are."

She pulled him down into another kiss while her free hand went to the laces on his breeches. He froze and broke the kiss to stare at her. "Nay, we cannot!" he protested.

"Shh," she hushed against his warm, wet lips. "We can and we shall."

"What of William?" he questioned and she grinned.

"Our young man is with his grandfather."

Still, he looked worried and she cupped his face in both hands. "I entreat thee Husband," she whispered while looking into those golden eyes.

After a beat, he sighed while tracing her brow with gentle fingers. "I can deny you nothing."

His lips captured hers again and she moaned into his mouth as his hand cupped and fondled her breast, his fingers teasing the pebbled nipple through her chemise and gown. She arched into him and he pulled her close and rolled so she was astride his hips. "Isabella," he murmured as his lips trailed from her mouth to the supple skin of her neck. "You are my heart, my love, my everything…"

Working the laces of her bodice and chemise, he freed her breasts to the attentions of his questing lips and tongue and she drew in a sharp breath as he suckled her. "Carlisle…" she moaned as she rose and moved back to free his hardened length.

As she did so, his hands glided up her stocking-clad legs, pushing her skirts up as they went. When he found her center, she gasped as he tore her knickers in two with one quick tug.

She began to move off him but he held her hips. "No," he said. "'Tis better this way—safer this way," he amended and she nodded.

Leaning down, she whispered against his lips, "My lord, my husband…I love you," as she sank onto his cock and his breath hitched as he pulled her into a deep kiss.

"So long I have waited to hear those words from your lips," he murmured as she rose and fell in a slow rhythm. "And now…"

"Shh," she hushed him with a finger against his lips as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Do not speak of it," she begged before throwing her head back with a moan as he gripped her hips and met her downward strokes with his own powerful thrusts.

Minutes later, she shattered around him with a cry of pleasure as he pulsed and filled her with a guttural groan of her name.

Gently, he laid her aside with a kiss and laced his breeches as she arranged her skirts. They gazed into each other's eyes and he traced her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I love you so," he murmured, "and will for all eternity."

She cupped his hand and turned her face to kiss his palm. "You have my heart," she whispered before looking into his beautiful golden eyes. "It beats for only you."

"Well, well… What do we have here?" A heavily accented male voice intruded loudly.

Isabella cried out in alarm as Carlisle shot to his feet and crouched in front of her. "Jacques!" he spat as his eyes turned flat black, his greatest fear now realized with the threat in front of him.

She watched as the other male—a red-eyed male—crouched and smirked viciously as his body swayed side to side. "'Tis quite all right, Carlisle. I'm willing to share," he said and lunged.

Isabella screamed in terror.

The fight was on.

**Your thoughts?**

**Please review!**

**'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: This might be one of the shortest chapters I've ever put out, however, I felt it was necessary before progressing with the story. So, bear with me, yeah? And please, back away from the torches and pitchforks! LOL Remember, above all, it's a Journey! Love to you, ~Spudz

* * *

_Previously:_

_Isabella cried out in alarm as Carlisle shot to his feet and crouched in front of her. "Jacques!" he spat as his eyes turned flat black._

_She watched as the other male—a red-eyed male—crouched and smirked viciously as his body swayed side to side. "'Tis quite all right, Carlisle. I'm willing to share," he said and lunged._

_Isabella screamed in terror._

_The fight was on._

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Isabella was terrified as she tried to follow the struggle between her husband and the red-eyed vampire but it was nothing more than a blur to her human eyes, so quickly were they moving.

Even more terrifying were the sounds they made; deep, animalistic growls and hisses interspersed with exclamations that were all too human and easily recognized as wrought from pain and anger.

One such noise wrenched a scream from her and she moved without thinking, simply needing to get to Carlisle after hearing his cry of pain.

"No, Isabella! Stay back!" she heard him yell, but it was too late and she was thrown a distance from the fight, her body striking heavily against a boulder.

"Carlisle," she whispered before coughing, bright blood staining her lips.

"Isabella!" he screamed before tearing an arm from his opponent with a twist and a well-placed kick.

Jacques smiled manically as he recovered and circled, barely registering the loss of his limb. "So sad Carlisle…such a waste…all that blood…and she was beautiful too…"

Carlisle snarled and tossed the arm just as Jacques attacked again. He was off balance now though and Carlisle took advantage of this, his many years of training with a sword serving him well as he spun and grabbed his opponent's head in his hands. One quick bite to the neck and he'd decapitated the vampire with a twist and a growl, the body and head falling feet from each other.

It was over and he'd won.

_'But at what cost?'_

The thought raced through his mind and filled his veins with icy fear.

Racing over to where his wife had fallen, he knelt and choked on a sob as she blearily blinked at him. "Oh Isabella," he whispered while smoothing her hair back and kissing her forehead.

She did her best to smile through the pain. "I'm very broken…" she rasped and coughed and emotion choked him as more blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

His hands hovered over her body helplessly as she bravely stared into his face. "You'll watch over our boy? My—my father will raise him, but you'll watch over him, won't you?"

He swallowed the choking lump in his throat. "My heart, do not speak so…you will…you will be well!"

She smiled tremulously and raised a shaking hand to his cheek. "We know the truth of this Carlisle. I am bro…" she swallowed and coughed and her eyes closed in pain. "I am broken and only...only your venom could save me now."

He sucked in a breath while shaking his head. "I—I cannot…" he whispered in dread. "I cannot condemn you to such a fate. I love you too much!"

She focused on his face and smiled. "I forgive you…" she whispered and her eyes went glassy as her heart stopped.

"Isabella? Isabella!" he cried as his voice cracked. "No…" he sobbed as he gathered her broken form close. "No…" he repeated as he rocked her before staring up into the heavens, his anguished scream echoing through the trees.

.

She was gone.

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His heart was gone…

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…and the whole world turned grey.

**Your thoughts? **

**Please review?**

**'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

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_Previously: "Isabella? Isabella!" he cried as his voice cracked. "No…" he sobbed as he gathered her broken form close. "No…" he repeated as he rocked her before staring up into the heavens with an anguished scream._

_She was gone._

_His heart was gone…_

_…and the whole world turned grey._

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**Chapter 11 (present day, Carlisle's study)  
**

Carlisle laughed and they both leaned back on the sofa, Esme's head resting against his shoulder. For moments, they sat in silence, both deep in thought until Esme finally spoke. "Carlisle?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you ever change her?"

She felt him tense and stroked his bicep with her hand as she waited for his answer. He exhaled heavily. "Well," he said, his tone laced with regret, "You know my views on cursing someone to this existence…"

She nodded and settled back to finally hear the story...

"Well, in the early years of my existence, I was even more adamant that this…existance was a curse." As he spoke, he stared into the distance, his mind's eye reaching back through the centuries. He glanced askance and Esme nodded in encouragement as she turned her body, curling one leg under her as she leaned against the back of the couch. "I fully believed that all vampires should be destroyed, including myself, no matter that Isabella tried to convince me otherwise," he murmured with a sardonic smile.

Esme smiled and rubbed his bicep. "So, she was fully aware of what you'd become?"

"She was," he agreed in a quiet, reflective tone. "That would be something I spent countless hours pondering through the years—her uncanny awareness." He looked over and smiled wryly. "It was also something she refused to speak of and it was maddening."

"I can well imagine…"

"Needless to say," he continued, "I refused to change her. I was…horrified at the prospect the first time she even hinted at it."

"When was that?"

His gaze locked with hers, the torment in his eyes breathtaking as he answered. "The first time she died in my arms."

"Oh Carlisle…"

He nodded and stared down at the floor as a bitter smile curved his lips. "Her last words to me were 'I forgive you.' She knew, Es, she knew I would hate myself for it, even though I'd done it for her—even though I'd given her up for the sanctity of her soul—she knew and used her last breath to try to ease my guilt."

"You encountered her again though, right?"

He nodded. "I did."

"Remarkable…" she murmured and he smiled wanly.

"Yes, quite."

"Tell me about it?" she asked while ducking her head to catch his eyes.

He smiled and sat back. "We had a son before she died."

Esme gaped. "A child?! Oh Carlisle! What was his name? What happened to him?"

"His name was William and he was beautiful." He glanced over and she smiled softly. She could tell all of this was still quite painful for him to speak about, even after all these years. "He was only five years old when she died and Isabella had made me promise to watch after him as she lay dying, so that's what I did." He rubbed at his brow. "I would have regardless."

"Of course," Esme agreed.

"So, for the next many years of his life, I stayed in the area and watched as his grandfather—Isabella's father—raised him to manhood."

Esme's brows rose. "He was your heir. Your father didn't insist on raising him?"

He frowned. "He didn't have a chance, thank god." His eyes cut to hers. "He made a fuss at first, but my mother was very ill in those days to begin with, and died mere days after my disappearance. Without her calming presence, he became an unapologetic tyrant and it was during an argument with my law-father that he collapsed from what I can now deem a heart attack. He never recovered and died weeks later."

"I'm sorry," she murmured and he shook his head.

"Don't be. He was not a nice man and I shudder to think of what my son would have endured at his hands if he'd raised him."

"I'm sorry. I never would have guessed…you have such a good and kind heart, it's hard to believe such a man raised you."

A sad smile tugged at his lips and he patted her hand as he continued. "Anyhow, from the shadows, I watched as my son became an accomplished barrister and a respected Lord of the realm, as he married and had children of his own…" he glanced over, "and then I watched as he grew old and died."

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "And your grandchildren?"

"He fathered two daughters and a son."

"Did you stay for them?"

He shook his head. "I did not. I found that I couldn't. Watching him grow old and die was…well, it was bittersweet and painful. That's the only way I can describe it and I found I had no desire to go through that again."

"I think I understand," she murmured and he gripped her hand with a wistful smile.

"So," he continued after shaking himself from the momentary melancholy, "I spent the next many years traveling all over Europe as I worked to control my bloodlust and hone my human facade, with the goal of eventually integrating myself back into society. Out of necessity, I eventually began to take up odd jobs here and there, only staying long enough to acquire funds to cover clothing and other essentials. Still, over the years and with so few expenses, I began to amass a certain wealth which allowed me to mingle within certain social circles.

"This is how I came to find myself in the northwest region of France in the Spring of 1734…

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Carlisle stared out the window of the small chateau he'd managed to secure. Its relatively secluded location and the regions climate was as close to ideal as Carlisle could get. It was located very close to the Paimpont Forest in the northwestern region of France and was, more often than not, covered in clouds and rain. He'd been very fortunate to find it and hoped to be able to stay here for a good few years as he went about self educating himself in his latest passion: medicine.

The sound of approaching footsteps had him tensing slightly as he awaited the old caretaker's entrance into the room. "Monsieur Cullen?"

He turned toward the bent form of the old man who eyed him with watery eyes shaded by heavy, grey brows. "Yes?"

"Is everything to your liking?"

Carlisle gave the man a faint smile and a nod. "Yes, it's very adequate for my needs. I believe I'll be very comfortable here, thank you."

The man grunted in reply. "I'll send my niece around to collect your laundry later then," he said as he turned to leave.

"Ah, there's really no need to trouble her…"

The old man waved a hand. "No trouble and the wife wouldn't have it any other way. She insists and there's no arguing with her. The girl will be around soon."

Carlisle pressed his lips together before moving to see the man out. "Very well then. I thank you for your kindness."

The old man shuffled out the door with another absent wave and Carlisle closed the door with a slow shake of his head. He'd learned, it was best to simply go along with certain things to avoid suspicion and having the caretaker's niece do his laundry would be one such concession, it seemed.

With a sigh, he made his way back into the comfortable sitting room and began to lay a fire in the grate. He wasn't cold, obviously, but it was chilly outside and such a thing would be expected of a human. Besides, he found the low light and sounds of a cheery fire comforting in many ways. It gave a bit of life to a room and when you led a life of forced seclusion, every little bit helped.

Once the fire had caught, he made his way through to the small kitchen and down into the cool cellar below where he chose a bottle of rich, red wine from the selection he'd spied there earlier.

One thing he'd been delighted to discover since becoming what he was, was his continued ability to drink and appreciate certain alcoholic beverages, such as the wine he now opened and poured into a fine stemmed glass from the kitchen rack.

Placing the glass and bottle on a serving tray, he took it back and placed it on the table next to the chair by the fireplace.

He then went to one of the many shelves of books and chose one to read. It was just as he was settling into his chair that a knock sounded at the door and he sighed to himself as he rose and went to answer.

Pulling open the door, his brows rose at the sight of the old woman standing there, a thick, woolen scarf wrapped about her head and shoulders. "Hello," he greeted. "Are you Mermot's niece?"

The old woman gave him a cheery, gap-toothed cackle and waved a hand. "Non! I'm his wife. Our niece is busy with other duties, so I came myself."

"Ah," he said with a nod as he stepped back, holding the door wide. "Won't you come in from the weather and I'll get my things."

"Merci," she muttered as she bustled in to stand, hands outstretched, by the fire.

He closed the door and stepped into the small bed-chamber where his things were stored. Grabbing the bundle of soiled clothes from his trunk, he made sure nothing was blood stained before stuffing it all in a spare sack and taking it to the woman. "Here you are," he said, handing it over to her. "There's really no need to trouble yourself. I can see to it…"

She looked scandalized. "Non! The girl will see to it as is proper," she grumbled as she made her way back to the door. She turned to him and eyed him critically as he opened the door for her. "You could do with a hearty meal too. Much too pale. I'll be back with it later," she grumbled as she left and he closed the door while stifling another sigh.

Another thing he'd learned through his years of reintegrating back into society was that he seemed to attract the attentions of women of all ages; the older who invariably tried to marry their daughters off to him and the younger who flirted mercilessly. It was tiring, even to an immortal such as he, but something he'd had to adjust to and rebuff with as much grace as possible.

A frown tugged at the corners of his lips as he eased himself into the chair before the crackling fire. Such thoughts always led him to thoughts of _her_ and he picked up his wine glass and took a sip while rubbing over the pain in his chest, his expression pensive as he stared into the flames.

Isabella…

His lovely Isabella…

How he missed her still. Sometimes, so much so that the pain was crippling.

Clenching his eyes shut, he growled lowly, cursing himself for letting such thoughts surface. He'd worked hard to turn off that part of himself; the part that still loved her desperately. He'd had to in order to get on with…living, if that's what he could call what he was doing.

At first, just after she'd died in his arms, he'd fled into the forest, found a cave and laid there for days, locked within himself, refusing to move for any reason, even to feed. Then, he swore he began to hear her—her sweet voice—in his head, pleading with him to go on, for their son…for her…reminding him of his promise and as painful as it had been, he'd finally heeded that voice.

And so he'd risen and gone on with watching over his son.

With a deep breath in and out, he opened his eyes and took up his book, doing his best to push back the pain and the memories as he lost himself in the pages and the warmth of the fire.

It was some time later, as he sipped at his third glass of wine that another knock sounded at the door just as the grey light of the day waned into the deepening shadows of evening.

Setting his book and glass aside, he rose from his seat and went to the door, fully expecting to see Mermot's old wife standing there. Thus, when the door swung open and he looked into a very familiar pair of warm brown eyes—eyes that his heart knew better than his head did—it was all he could do to maintain composure as she dipped into a curtsy while holding forth a cloth covered dish. "Monsieur Cullen," she murmured shyly before her gaze traveled up from his chest to meet his.

"Mon Dieu…" she breathed, those oh so familiar eyes going wide before rolling back into her head as her legs buckled and she crumpled.

Catching her before she hit the ground, he gathered her to his chest and kicked the door closed before carrying her to the sofa where he gently laid her, his hand and eyes tracing over her flushed cheek and chin.

"No!," he denied while snatching his hand back before pacing away from her while rubbing his brow. "You've well and truly lost your mind, Cullen," he muttered as he paced. "It's not her…it's not!"

He stopped then and took in a breath as he stared at her, a scent that he hadn't smelled in decades filling his senses even as he denied the possibility again, "It _cannot_ be…"

He approached her still form slowly and knelt, taking her pale, chilled hand into his as she breathed steadily through plump, parted lips. Reaching out, he ran the pad of his thumb over the dewy, pillowed softness as tears misted his eyes.

Those lips…he'd also know them anywhere…his perfect vampire recall had tortured him with their image and the memory of their feel and their honeyed sweetness over the years… No, he would never forget a single nuance of his Isabella—and by some miracle—here she lay before him once again.

"Oh god in heaven," he whispered. "Have I lost my sanity? Or is it really you? Have you returned to me?"

Gently laying his head on her chest, he gave in for the moment, his eyes slowly closing as he choked back a sob and listened to the sweet sound of her heart beating...once again.

**Your thoughts?**

**Please review?**

**'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

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_Previously:_

_He approached her still form slowly and knelt, taking her pale, chilled hand into his as she breathed steadily through plump, parted lips. Reaching out, he ran the pad of his thumb over the dewy, pillowed softness as tears misted his eyes. Those lips…he'd also know them anywhere…his perfect vampire recall had tortured him with their image and the memory of their feel and taste over the years… No, he would never forget a single nuance of his Isabella—and by some miracle—here she lay before him once again._

_"Oh god in heaven," he whispered. "Have I lost my sanity? Or is it really you? Have you returned to me?"_

_Gently laying his head on her chest, he gave in for the moment and choked back a sob as he listened to the sweet sound of her heart beating…once again._

_._

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**Chapter 12**

A/N: Before you call me out on it (if'n ya care all that much)—The Kama Sutra aside—yes there was such a thing as a book on sexual instruction. It's presented in the form of a dialogue between Frank (an experienced woman) and her innocent cousin, Katy. It was called _'The School of Venus, The Ladies Delight, Reduced into Rules of Practice (L'Escoles des filles)'_. It was translated from the original French and published in England in 1680. You can find a digitized copy on Google books, artist illustrations and all. You should really check it out (remember, the letters that look like a lower case 'f' are really 's'). The language makes some fanfic lemons seem tame. How we ever became such prudes with ancestors such as they, I'll never know! ;-)

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Carlisle sat, his gaze fixed on the still figure of the girl lying on his sofa. It had been about twenty minutes by his reckoning, since he'd lain her there and he was beginning to become concerned.

Oh, it wasn't because of her health. No, her steady breaths and the sure beat of her heart served to reassure on that front.

He was worried because of the impropriety of her presence here for longer than strictly necessary to deliver a meal (which he'd since cleaned up from where she'd dropped it). He knew her Aunt and Uncle would be expecting her back very soon, and if she didn't wake in the next few minutes, he would have to fetch them.

It was a change in the rate of her heart that relieved his worry somewhat and he sat forward as she began to stir. "Carlisle…" she whispered in a heavily accented voice as her eyelids fluttered before opening. With a gasp, she sat up and placed a hand to her forehead.

"Take it slowly," he said quietly and she whipped her head toward him, her eyes wide as she stared.

"I know you," she murmured. "But how is such a thing possible? Earlier, I did not know you at all, but now… It is as though I've lived another life full of strange and frightening things… Terrible things… but that's…impossible."

She swung her feet to the floor and shook her head while rubbing at her brow. "There is another life in my head," she whimpered incredulously, "one I do not understand…so many things I do not understand…" She looked up, her eyes full of fear and desperation. "How can this be?! What have you done to me?!"

He frowned and lifted a hand toward her. "Nothing…I…"

"Non!" she snapped as she scrambled off the sofa and backed toward the door. "I know you though we've never met…have you bewitched me?"

Carlisle dropped his hand and shook his head sadly. "I've done nothing Miss, I promise you…"

"I must go," she said as she whirled around and ran out the door, not even bothering to close it properly in her haste to leave.

Rising from his seat, he walked to the door and closed it, leaning his head against the smooth wood as he pushed back the ache of her obvious fear and rejection.

Clenching his hand into a fist, he thumped it against the door twice before yanking the door open and heading into the forest for a hunt.

Once well into the cover of the trees, he took off running, his mind racing over all that had just happened and what it might mean for him.

A low growl escaped him when he realized it may mean another move if she persisted in thinking he'd bewitched her somehow. Experience told him it was never a good allegation to have leveled toward him as there were hunters and religious fanatics everywhere. He scoffed at the irony of his situation. Not that any hunters could really hurt him, but such claims, if she made them public, would never allow him to stay and live peaceably.

Not to mention, he would find it very difficult to leave her now that he'd found her, even if he would have to lurk in the shadows to be near her.

With another growl at that thought, he pounced and took down a huge buck, rolling with the impact as he snapped the large, struggling animal's neck before sinking sharp fangs into its artery.

Once he'd drained it, he unsheathed a hunting knife he'd taken to carrying and proceeded to gut and dress the carcass before taking it back to hang in the caretaker's meat house. He'd found doing so a better alternative than simply letting all his kills go back to nature in the forest. If he could provide fresh game for people who might otherwise struggle, all's the better.

After closing the door to the meat house, he ran back into the forest, intent on taking a cleansing swim in the nearby river. Anything to keep his mind occupied for his idle thoughts were threatening to drive him mad or perhaps just break his heart, he wasn't quite sure which.

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The kitchen door of the farm house slammed open, the loose panes of glass rattling in their frames as the panicked girl rushed into the caretaker's cottage. Whirling around, the old woman squawked indignantly before brandishing a wooden spoon at her niece. "What's gotten into you, coming in here like the very devil's on your heels?!"

The girl blushed hotly and stared down at the floor. "Forgive me Auntie," she murmured as she gently closed the abused door.

"What took so long then?" her aunt asked her while eyeing her knowingly as she went back to stirring the simmering, fragrant stew.

"Nothing Auntie. He…had questions about the chateau and the village, that's all," she mumbled as she began to set the table for the evening meal. She nearly sighed in relief as her uncle shuffled in, slowly lowering himself into his seat at the head of the heavy, wooden table.

"Pour the wine Isabel," he grumbled with a tired sigh while shoving his mug toward her.

"Yes, Uncle," she murmured as she poured and set it back in front of him. She filled a mug for herself and her aunt before sitting down with them for the meal, praying that her hands would stop shaking as she did so.

Her uncle was oblivious, for the most part, but her aunt was a sharp-eyed old lady who seemed to see everything.

After her uncle blessed the food, they began to eat silently until her aunt finally broke the silence. "He is quite handsome, oui?"

Isabel swallowed heavily and took a sip of wine before cutting a wary gaze to her aunt. "Who?"

The old lady scoffed before chuckling. "Oh child, your uncle, of course!" she cackled before waving a hand as the old man grunted a laugh. "Monsieur Cullen, that's who!"

The young girl dragged her spoon through her stew and shrugged a shoulder. "I suppose."

"Hmph, you suppose," the old woman grumbled dryly. "You could do worse, like that horrible boy from the village that's been sniffing around; arrogant and useless, that one. Non, you're a beautiful girl, Isabel. You should set your sights higher, like Monsieur Cullen. A learned and proper gentleman, even if he is English."

Isabel gaped at her aunt, truly astounded at this change in her aunt's demeanor. Since the day Isabel had come to live with them, her aunt had always been a strict guardian, never leaving her alone in the vicinity of any male for even so much as a breath's time and now? She was pushing her toward this new man?

The old woman waved a hand. "Oh don't look so surprised. Your Uncle and I won't live forever and when we die, what then, hm? Who will look after you?" she asked with a raised brow.

Isabel closed her mouth and shook her head. "I don't know Auntie. I don't like to think of it."

The old woman's expression softened and she patted the girl's hand. "I know, but you must. We're very old and weren't meant to raise another child and even though we've loved you, we're tired—worn out—and you must look to your future. Monsieur Cullen is the best prospect we've seen, child. You must do your best to appeal to him."

Isabel's startled gaze snapped to her aunt's and the old lady cackled as she patted her niece's hand. "You stay pure until that ring's on your finger, sweet girl. But there are other things to entice a man. I have a book for you and will give it to you after your evening chores. It's time you grow up, Isabel. This book will help you," her aunt said with a nod before falling silent as she went back to her cooling meal.

Isabel's face flamed at her aunt's inference because unbeknownst to the old woman, there were now visions—memories perhaps?—of a very intimate nature—in Isabel's head concerning what goes on between a man and a woman.

She stirred her cooling stew and took a bite from her buttered bread, her brow creased with a frown as she chewed. There were also memories of a more disturbing nature concerning just what he was. A vampire—could it be true? Was all of that simply some wild dream she'd had after fainting? Running from him certainly hadn't helped with getting any answers…

"Eat, girl," her uncle grumbled, bringing her out of her pensive thoughts and she blushed again under her guardian's shrewd gaze.

"Yes Uncle."

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Later that evening, by the light of her candle, her cheeks burned hotly as she perused the pages of the book her aunt had given her. "Mon Dieu…" she whispered as she tilted the book, first one way then the other as she stared, wide-eyed at the illustrations—the detailed illustrations. Quickly searching the new memories in her head, she slammed the book closed with a whimper and rested her forehead against the cover, rather certain that Isabella Swan had never been that risqué in her exploits with any man.

"How am I to do this?!" she lamented quietly with a shake of her head.

_'Non,'_ she thought, after opening the book to peek at yet another drawing. She didn't think she'd even be able to face him now, much less entice him to courtship. And, to be totally honest, she was afraid of him.

She'd only heard whispers of the type of creature she suspected him to be, delivered gleefully by some of the boys in the village, but those whispered stories had been terrifying to her, all the same.

How could she face him again? It would seem that she had little choice in the matter though, with how insistent her aunt was, and there was no way she could tell her aunt of the visions or memories or _whatever_ they were, that she'd somehow gained after seeing him. She'd probably be declared completely mad and handed over to the local priest to be exorcised.

No, telling anyone was just not a possibility. She would just have to be very careful and stay away from him without seeming to; no mean feat considering her sharp-eyed guardians, but she was determined to try.

Sighing, she placed the book on her night table, snuffed the candle and curled up in her bed with a shiver as her eyes closed and she fell into a restless sleep.

As usual, the crow of their rooster right outside her window rudely woke her before the sun had even offered to rise and she groaned as she groggily rose from the warmth of her bed.

Shivering from the chill in the room, she quickly crossed to the fireplace, poked at the dying embers and placed some small, dry pieces of wood in to chase the chill as she readied herself for the day.

Changing quickly into a fresh, woolen day dress and sturdy boots, she turned to her vanity and poured clean, but cold water into her basin and began to wash up. After brushing and pinning her hair into a bun and cleaning her teeth, she rinsed the taste out of her mouth, spit into the basin and dumped it all into her chamber pot which she took with her as she left the room.

Placing the pot down just outside the back door, she shrugged into her heaviest work cloak, and trudged out into the cold morning mist to get on with collecting eggs and feeding the stock. "Good morning Uncle," she greeted as she passed him in the barn.

He grunted in return as he pulled up a stool and began milking their cow who was contentedly munching grass hay. "There's fresh venison in the meat house," he commented as she scattered cracked corn and grain to the chickens.

Her brows rose. "Oh?"

"Aye," he continued as steam rose from the warm milk that steadily filled the pail. "I believe it's from your Englishman. Be sure to thank him when you take him his morning meal."

She huffed and nearly dropped an egg she'd been collecting in her apron. "Uncle, he is hardly my Englishman, and must we feed the man every meal?"

He chuckled. "Just do as you're told, girl. No harm in showing a bit of kindness to the stranger amongst us, now is there?" he asked with a cocked brow and a shrewd eye cast her way.

She sighed. "No, Uncle, I suppose not," she murmured as she dumped the contents of the slop bucket into the pigs trough.

Finished with her outside chores, she made her way back to the kitchen where her aunt was busy making breakfast. "Did you look at the book I left you Isabel?"

Her face flushed and an egg that she been transferring from her apron to the basket on the work table splattered on the floor. Her aunt tsk'ed as she slid plump loaves of bread dough into the hot oven. "Mind what you're doing girl!"

She quickly finished filling the basket with eggs and got a towel to clean up the mess. "Forgive me Aunt, and yes, I looked at the book," she admitted while wiping up egg and shell.

"Good," the old woman grumbled. "It is much better than having me talk to you about such things, non?"

Shaking off the shell into the pigs slop bucket, she avoided her aunt's sharp eyes while mumbling her agreement. "Must we talk of such things at all?" she couldn't help but add as she rinsed the towel in a clean bucket of water before finally meeting her aunt's gaze. "Won't he think me a loose woman if I do…those kinds of things with him?"

"Arg, girl," her aunt said with a shake of her head. "Of course you won't do most of those things until you're properly wed. Later, you and I will sit down and go over what's permissible and what isn't."

Isabel wrung her hands and shot a stricken look at her aunt. "Must we? Please Auntie, I beg of you! This is madness! He hasn't even expressed an interest! Can we not simply ignore him and go on with life as we have been?!"

Her aunt cupped her face in her wrinkled hands, her wizened eyes soft with affection as she held her gaze. "I love you Isabel, but life is hard here. I know I haven't told you that enough since your parents died and you came to live with us, but it's true. I love you as if you were my own daughter and because of that, I want the best for you."

Isabel covered her aunt's hands with her own as her eyes misted with tears. "I've never felt unloved here Auntie."

The old woman smiled. "Good. Then you'll understand why we must find you a proper husband." She sighed and sat down in a kitchen chair. "I'm old child and tired and I'm so worried I'll go to meet my maker before seeing you properly taken care of." She clutched to Isabel's hand and tugged her to sit across from her. "This Englishman…he's a right and proper gentleman with the coin to care for a wife and that makes him the best prospect." She gave her niece an earnest look. "He's an answer to prayer, Isabel, and I believe as long as you're a good wife to him, he'll treat with you fairly and make you a good husband."

Isabel squeezed her aunt's hand as she stared into her lap, a deep frown on her face as her thoughts raced over the strange memories in her head. "What is it, girl? What bothers you? Did he abuse you in some way?"

Her eyes went wide and she shook her head. "No! It's just…" she looked up into her aunt's worried face and her words stuck in her throat. She just couldn't find it in her to voice her concerns, not with the look on her dear aunt's face, especially when the man had been nothing but kind so far. "Nothing, Auntie. I'll do as you and Uncle say and…try my best."

Her aunt smiled brightly and patted her hands before rising to see to breakfast. "There's a good girl. Now, see to getting some fresh water from the well. Then you can take Monsieur Cullen his breakfast."

Isabel got to her feet and hefted the water bucket. "Yes Auntie."

Carlisle had just changed out of his damp clothes from his earlier swim and sat down with a book in front of the crackling fire when he heard someone approach his door. With a sigh, he dropped his head and waited for the knock before rising to answer.

Even before opening the door, he could tell by the racing heart that his early morning visitor was the young girl, Isabel, and he was proved right as he pulled open the door.

Dipping into a quick curtsy, she stared at the covered tray in her hands as she greeted him. "Good morning Monsieur Cullen." She held up the tray to him. "I have brought you breakfast," she said as she chanced a wide-eyed glance at him before blushing red to the roots of her rich mahogany hair.

He took the tray and gestured inside. "Thank you. Would you care to step inside and warm up a bit before walking back to your home?"

He sighed mentally as her gaze darted around. She looked like a cornered doe before she finally took a deep, shaky breath and met his gaze. "That would be nice, thank you," she said with resolve before stepping inside to wait as he closed the door.

"Please, go sit by the fire." He held up the tray and gave her a small smile, careful not to show any teeth. "I'll just put this in the kitchen. Would you like anything? Some tea, perhaps?"

She wrinkled her nose, muttering something about his English heritage that he wasn't supposed to hear, and he hid a smile as she said more clearly, "Non, but thank you."

He joined her moments later, handing her a glass of sweet, red wine which she accepted with unsteady hands. He smiled wanly as he retook his seat. "Preferable over tea, yes?"

She jerked a nod. "Oui. Merci."

"Your English is very good," he commented, hoping that some idle conversation would get her to relax. It didn't, and he watched her as her hands clutched the glass until the tips of her fingers went white.

"My Auntie insisted I learn," she murmured as her cheeks flushed. "But my accent is still quite thick I'm afraid."

"Have you always lived with your Aunt and Uncle?" He took a sip from his glass and watched as she shook her head.

"Non. My parents and brother died from a fever when I was nine. I have been with my aunt and uncle since. I am nineteen now."

He frowned. "Forgive me for bringing up painful memories."

She waved his concerns away with a graceful hand. "It has been a very long time, Monsieur. The pain has dulled."

She surprised him then by meeting his gaze straight on, her deep brown eyes staring knowingly into his. "What of you Monsieur? Have you a family somewhere?"

The sadness that filled his eyes made her ashamed of asking such a question and she looked away as he answered. "No, they have all passed away."

"I am sorry," she murmured, peeking at him as he smiled sadly.

"Thank you, but it has been a long time for me also."

"So, you are used to being alone?" she asked curiously before taking a sip of the rich wine he'd given her.

He stared into the dancing flames of the fire, his mind conjuring perfect images of his lovely wife and son. "In some ways, yes," he murmured lowly, "but once you have loved as I have…" He shook his head and blew out a breath before sending her a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, I suppose I am. We do what we must to survive."

"Forgive me," she said as her heart wrenched in pity for him. "I have been most insensitive." She set her glass on the table between them and rose. "I should go…"

Carlisle didn't know what made him do it, he just knew he didn't want her to leave, so he gently grabbed her hand and stood with her, drawing a wide-eyed gasp from her as she stared up into his face, her heart now racing again.

"Please…stay a bit longer?"

He watched as a plethora of emotions swirled in those deep chocolate eyes before she finally glanced down at their joined hands and whispered, "So cold. . . What are you?" When she looked back into his eyes, the naked fear in hers nearly tore his heart in two. "What are you?" she repeated and he released her hand and quickly stepped back, turning away to stare down into the fire.

"My apologies," he managed to choke out over the lump in his throat. "You are right. You should go," he finished as he looked away in shame.

To his shock, she remained, though she trembled with her fear. "Are you…" he heard her swallow thickly. "Are you a vampire?" she managed to finished in little more than a whisper.

He felt his whole body lock up as he turned his head, his eyes now resembling hardened amber as he stared at her. "You should go, Isabel… Now."

And with a choked sob, she turned and ran from him. . .again.

**Your thoughts?**

**I look forward to your reviews.**

**'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, yada, yada.**

**A/N: Reviews are great. I like 'em a lot. ~Spudz**

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**Chapter 13**

"Isabel? Isabel?!"

The strident calls of her aunt finally broke through the daze the young woman was in as she gathered the clean clothes from the line and she called out, "Yes Auntie, I'll be right there!"

Putting the last of the freshly washed linen clothes in her basket, she hefted it to her hip and made her way back into the house through the kitchen.

Placing her basket on the work table, she tucked some wayward hair back into her bun and turned to her aunt. "Was there something you needed?"

"Oui," the older woman said with a nod as she chopped vegetables for dinner. "When you take Monsieur Cullen's laundry to him, I want you to invite him to dinner."

Isabel slumped into a chair. "Auntie, shouldn't we leave him to his peace for a while? We're going to overwhelm the man!"

"Nonsense." Her aunt turned and waggled the knife as she spoke. "I've yet to see a man who didn't appreciate a well cooked meal. Besides, your uncle told me he stocked our meat house. Did you remember to thank him for that this morning?"

Isabel hung her head. "Non Auntie, I forgot."

"Well then, that decides it. Invite him for dinner and your uncle and I will thank him ourselves." She eyed her niece's attire for a moment. "Change into one of your Sunday dresses before you go."

"Yes Ma'am," she answered with a sigh as she rose and began folding the last of the clean laundry.

When she'd put away her family's clothes, she placed Carlisle's in the basket and went to her room to change.

Pulling open her clothes press, she quickly chose a pretty royal blue dress and laid it out on her bed before shucking her heavy woolen work dress and plain linen underclothes.

Pouring clean water into her basin, she grabbed a small cloth and a lump of lavender soap and made short work of scrubbing and rinsing her body, despite the goosebumps the frigid water raised on her bare skin. She just couldn't bear to don such a pretty dress without feeling and smelling clean.

While she completed her task, her thoughts wandered to the undeniably handsome newcomer and she frowned. How could she possibly face him again after what she'd asked him earlier. Adding to that, she'd run from him.

Groaning in shame and embarrassment, she slipped into clean underclothes and shimmied the dress down over her head before adjusting it and lacing the front closed.

She wouldn't blame him if he ordered her to leave his home and never return. What if the memories in her head were all just a jumbled dream?! She'd practically accused him of being a blood-thirsty creature of the night!

She stared at herself in her vanity looking glass. Yes, the man had every right to be furious with her and she wouldn't be surprised if he made short work of informing her guardians of what she'd done.

"Auntie will skin me," she murmured as she took her hair down to run a brush through the silken strands. "And I deserve it."

She frowned and stopped brushing mid-stroke. "But then, what if I'm right? He didn't deny it after all…" She scowled at her reflection. "But who would believe you, Isabel?" She placed both hands on the vanity top and leaned toward her reflection, staring intently at herself. "Stop being such a stupid girl," she said with a sigh.

"Isabel!" She heard her aunt call and she straightened up and finished arranging her hair.

"Coming Auntie!" She slid her feet into some soft, low-heeled slippers, grabbed her good cloak, and hurried back to the kitchen where her aunt looked her over with a critical eye.

"Lovely, now pinch some color into your cheeks and get going. Dinner is almost ready."

She did as her aunt said, grabbed the basket and slipped out the kitchen door. The walk to Carlisle's chateau only took about ten minutes and she hesitated at his door. Her hand hovered above the wood as she took a deep, bracing breath to steady her nerves before giving three sharp raps on the wood.

The door opened almost instantly, startling her and she took a reflexive step back, clutching the basket to her hip. "Mon—Monsieur Cullen," she murmured while dipping into a curtsy. "I have brought your laundry." She held out the basket and chanced looking at him.

His face was a carefully blank mask as he took his clothes from the basket. "Merci, Madmoiselle Mermot, and good evening to you," he said as he began to close the door.

Her eyes went wide and she placed a hand against the wood. "Wait! Please…I…I would like to apologize for my earlier behavior."

Carlisle sighed. "There is really no need…"

"Oh, but there is!" she rushed on. "I was horribly rude and asked questions I had no right to."

He studied her for a moment, taking note of her earnest, although nervous expression before inclining his head. "Apology accepted. Be sure to send my good regard to your aunt and uncle and have a good evening." Again, he tried to close the door and again she stopped it with her hand.

"Please Monsieur Cullen, won't you…won't you join us for dinner?"

A frown creased his brow. "It wouldn't be prudent, Madmoiselle and besides, I value my solitude. 'Tis best for all if I decline."

She stared down at her slippers. "I see. So, you haven't really forgiven me then," she murmured and he had to resist the urge to growl in frustration.

She peeked up at him through long, lush lashes and it was his undoing. "Oh, bloody hell…" he murmured too low for her to hear as he stepped back and held the door wide. "Won't you come in and warm yourself by the fire whilst I ready myself?"

She smiled and it was the first genuine smile he'd seen from her and for him, it was like the sun coming out from the clouds. "Oui, merci," she said as she stepped in.

He closed the door and closed his eyes for a moment as she made her way to the sitting room and the warmth of the fire. "You're a right glutton for punishment, Cullen," he muttered before making his way to his bedroom where he stowed the clothes in the clothes press, and quickly changed into something more appropriate for dinner.

As he shrugged into his waistcoat, he cringed at the thought of having to choke down human food. There hadn't been many occasions when he'd had to do so since his change, but when he had, the aftermath hadn't been pleasant. The stuff was vile, and purging it later would be even more so. Still, this was her family, and for _her_, he would endure anything, he knew.

When he joined her moments later, she was perusing the books he'd added to the shelves—mainly the medical tomes he'd collected. She turned to him when he cleared his throat to get her attention. "You've an interest in medicine?" she asked with a cocked brow and he nodded.

"Aye, I do."

Her brows rose. "Mere curiosity, or…"

"No," he said as he came to stand next to her, hands clasped casually behind his back. He reached out and ran a finger down the spine of a particularly heavy tome as he continued. "'Tis my wish to become a physician someday, thus the books. There is much to study but I find the subject fascinating."

He chanced a glance at her and noticed the thoughtful crease of her brow just before she spoke. "I—I have a feeling that you will succeed, Monsieur Cullen." She turned her head and smiled at him. "Oui," she said with a nod, "you will do very well as a physician. The profession suits you," she murmured somewhat cryptically and he gave her a bemused smile.

"Thank you, Madmoiselle." He gestured toward the door. "Shall we proceed to dinner?"

"Oui," she said and they turned and left the warmth of the chateau.

Once outside, Carlisle forwent offering his arm and gestured up the lane with a hand. "Shall we?"

She frowned and turned to look up into his face which was back to being carefully blank. She didn't like it, not one bit, so she gathered her courage and addressed the situation. "I had thought you to be a gentleman, Monsieur."

His brows shot up and he finally met her gaze. "Miss? Have I offended you in some manner?"

"Oui," she pouted with a defiant tilt of her chin as she stared into his eyes. "Am I not worthy of your arm, Monsieur?"

He looked away and guilt pierced her, but she refused to back down, so she waited, staring up at him resolutely despite her nervous misgivings.

He finally turned his head to peer down at her, his eyes full of conflict. "Aye Miss, you are more than worthy of my lowly escort, however, I thought it best to keep my distance considering your…earlier aversions," he murmured before cutting his gaze away, looking humble, his eyes full of pain and shame.

Guilt pierced her heart. She had done that to him—a fine man who should hold himself with nothing but pride and confidence and she'd reduced him to looking like he wished nothing more than to retreat to the shadows…

With a shaky hand, she reached up, tentatively cupping and caressing his cheek. "Non," she murmured as she watched his eyes slowly close. "I am sorry for hurting you, and would be most honored to have the escort of such a fine gentleman."

His eyes opened and he smiled faintly. "Well then," he said as he stepped back and bowed before offering his arm. "I would be honored to escort you properly, Madmoiselle Mermot."

"Merci," she murmured as she looped her arm through his. She repressed a shiver as they fell into step together, but it wasn't one of revulsion. Quite the contrary, if she were being honest. Being this close to him, she found, was disconcerting certainly, but in a very pleasant way, and she couldn't repress the pleasure that suffused her body at the solid feel of his arm under her hand or the irresistible, masculinely sweet scent of him.

"So, you are educated, then?" he questioned in an attempt to lighten the tension between them and she nodded.

"Oui, my auntie insisted and bartered for the services of a tutor from the village." She smirked prettily. "Never underestimate the value of the fruit of the vine or the stubbornness of an old French woman, Monsieur."

He chuckled. "Wise words, I am sure Miss."

"What of you then? What of your upbringing?" she asked, although she knew from Isabella Swan's knowledge most of the story of his background. Still, she was curious about what he would have to say.

"I was the son of a Lord of the Realm. He was also the Parson for our local parish, and very strict. He raised me to follow in his footsteps, but that…didn't quite work out, and here I am."

She frowned while looking up the lane. "Why does it seem that you have left much out of the telling, my Lord?"

She felt him tense under her hand. "Please, no titles, and much of it is still very painful to speak of…"

"Then, I beg you, do not, Monsieur. I have caused you enough distress…"

He caressed her hand where it lay upon his arm. "'Tis all right, Miss. For some strange reason, I find myself wanting you to know."

She studied his face for a moment, her eyes flitting between his, gauging the emotions she found there before nodding. "Very well then, I am happy to listen."

With a sad smile, he continued. "When it was time for me to step into my father's duties, I was instructed to find a wife first. I found doing so difficult, as none of the ladies in our parish appealed to me, and then I met Isabella. She was breathtakingly beautiful, but more than that, she had a kind soul," he said wistfully as he glanced at her. "Much as you do, lovely Isabel."

She blushed and murmured her thanks.

He cleared his throat and continued. "We married and she bore me a son, but then she was attacked one day when our son was but five years. I fought for her…but couldn't protect her well enough and she…died in my arms. Our son has also since passed."

Her breath caught at the pain in his voice and she tugged him to a stop. "Again, I must apologize for prying where I should not. Let us speak of other things now," she said as she began walking again. She chanced a glance up at him and he arched a brow.

"What would you have us speak of?"

She tightened her grip on his arm and he struggled to beat back the hope blossoming in his chest at such an accepting gesture. "The future, Monsieur," she said with a tiny nod. "Let us speak of the future and where it may take us."

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The door opened, flooding the darkened room with light from the hall as the night nurse entered the room, shaking Carlisle from his memories as he sat in the chair beside Isabella Swan's hospital bed. "Oh! Dr. Cullen, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you left hours ago," she said as she walked to the bed and switched on the dim light at the head of the bed.

She smiled at him. "You're close to her, right? She dated your son?"

Carlisle viciously squashed the urge to growl and focused on looking relaxed instead. "Yes, Miss Swan is quite important to our family." He held up a book. "I was just spending some time reading to her."

"Ah," the nurse said with a good-natured smile as she went about her routine. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the effort when she wakes up." She eyed him critically, noting the darkened shadows under his eyes. "You look like you need some sleep though. You're back on tomorrow, right?"

He placed the book on the side table and rose from his seat. "I am and you're right, so I'll call it a night and see you in the morning. Take good care of her, Karen."

"You know I will," she said with a smile and wave as he let himself out.

Once in the hall, his brows shot up at the sight of Edward, leaned up against the wall, his expression unreadable.

"Carlisle," he greeted with a nod. "Headed home now?"

"I am. Care for a ride?"

Edward glanced at Bella's closed door before nodding and falling into step beside him with a crooked smile. "I would, thanks."

They were silent as they walked through the halls and out the automatic doors that whispered open to the dark and quiet parking lot.

The car chirped as he unlocked and started it and they climbed in as the engine warmed. Edward waited until they had pulled out of the lot before speaking. "She's been this way since I left two weeks ago?"

"She has. As I told you on the phone, she was found in the forest by one of the Quileute. He stated she was completely unresponsive and Charlie had her transported to the hospital via ambulance."

Edward's brows drew together. "You ran all the standard tests?"

Carlisle merely sent him a flat look and he sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Of course you have."

"I have, plus many others that aren't so standard. Everything comes back normal, but still, she sleeps."

Edward smirked. "Perhaps she just needs a kiss?"

Carlisle glared. "Did you really just attempt humor at this situation? You broke her Edward, Charlie is beside himself, the rest of us are worried sick…"

Edward held up a hand, looking contrite. "I get it Carlisle, I do, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry, about all of it. I screwed up. I know that." He looked out at the passing scenery. "To be honest, I'm not sure what possessed me to handle things the way I did." He looked back at his sire. "It was completely irrational Carlisle, and you know me, I don't do irrational."

Carlisle sighed. "No, you don't, not usually. If anything, you tend to overthink and overanalyze things."

Edward merely nodded and they both fell silent for moments.

"Carlisle?"

"Yes?"

"Back there, while you were still in her room…your thoughts…the memories…were they really memories? and if so, how could that be?"

Carlisle nodded. "I had wondered if you'd been listening in. Yes, they were memories. How can any of it be so you ask?" He glanced over at his first childe. "We are supernatural beings, Edward. How can we possibly hope to explain or even fully understand the vast realm of the supernatural?"

He pulled off into their driveway and murmured, "I'll be happy to continue this conversation in my office. It's a rather personal matter to me and I've only spoken of her with Esme and then only recently."

Edward nodded just as Carlisle parked the car and cut the engine. "I understand, although I don't think you have to worry. It seems the house is empty."

They got out of the car and entered the house. "Alice must have seen your return."

Edward nodded as they headed upstairs. "I'm sure she did. I made a firm decision to come home," he said with a glance at his sire.

Carlisle smirked. "You could've just called."

He chuckled. "And rob Alice of her fun? Nah, stuff like this keeps her feeling needed." His phone vibrated with a text just then and he pulled it out and glanced at it, stowing it seconds later with an eye-roll. "She's telling me to stuff it."

Carlisle chuckled and took a seat at his desk, leaning back in the chair as Edward sat across from him. "So…Bella…"

Carlisle sighed. "Speak Edward. I'm not the mind reader here."

Edward frowned and ran a hand through his untamed hair. "I know, it's just…this is difficult for me Carlisle. I mean, two weeks ago, she was my girlfriend and now… Jesus, from the thoughts I heard at the hospital, she's some mystical reincarnation of your one true love." He eyed Carlisle as he nodded. "What I'm wondering is, if that's true, why didn't she recognize you? Why didn't the connection, or whatever it is, kick in when you two first met?"

"I can't answer that."

"That's how it always happened in the past?"

Carlisle nodded. "Pretty much, yes. I can't say it was ever love at first sight. Isabel thought I had bewitched her at first and was quite afraid of me, to be honest."

Edward leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at his sire. "Why was she so scared? Did she know what you were right away?"

Carlisle sighed. "She did—well, the very first time she saw me, she fainted. When she awoke, she seemed terrified of me but as we got to know each other, she became comfortable enough to admit to having gained the memories of a girl named Isabella. I immediately thought she was speaking of my late wife and dropped the subject, but now, looking back, I'm not so sure."

"You're thinking she may have gained Bella's memories?" Edward asked with raised brows.

"Yes. It would explain how she, and all other incarnations of her knew things about me and my future. For example, Isabel seemed convinced I'd be successful in becoming a doctor, even when I thought such a thing to be mere wishful thinking on my part."

"Interesting…" Edward murmured then his brow furrowed. "Just how many times did you encounter her through the years?"

"Four, and I'm not counting Bella since she never responded to me as the others did."

Edward sat back in his seat and stared at his sire intently. "What do we do now? I'm still in love with her and I'm pretty certain she still loves me too."

Carlisle struggled to keep his thoughts calm and his body relaxed. "I don't know, Edward. I guess we'll see when she awakes."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "What of your Isabella's scent? Did they all match?"

Carlisle inclined his head, his gaze fixed on his first childe. "They did."

Edward hissed quietly at whatever thoughts he'd gleaned from Carlisle head. "And my Bella's scent? What of it?"

"It's a perfect match son, I'm sorry."

The second the last word left his lips, he found himself pinned against the wall, a growling Edward in his face. "She's mine!"

He shoved back and Edward went flying across the desk and into the opposite wall just as Jasper and Emmett rushed in. Before Edward could recover, they both grabbed him and hauled him out while Esme went to Carlisle, her expression sad as she helped him straighten the mess.

When that was done, Carlisle slumped into his chair and she perched on the corner of his desk. "He's a teenager Doc, and no matter how many years he has behind him, a part of him will always be a teenager."

Carlisle sighed and nodded. "I know, Es. I just could've done without the drama at the moment, you know?"

She smiled. "I know, but we'll all get through this. He'll see the light soon enough." She ran a knuckle over the dark circle under one of his eyes. "Meanwhile, you need to hunt. You look like you've been on a three day bender, my dear."

He smirked. "Gee, thanks."

She pointed at herself. "Best friend here, remember. Telling the brutal truth's in my job description."

He frowned. "What about Edward?"

"Oh, don't worry about him," she said with a smirk. "I have it on good authority he's having a come-to-jesus meeting with his brothers right about now. I've been assured he'll be on his best behavior when they return." She grabbed his hand and pulled him up. "Now come on Doc. There's a mountain lion out there with your name on it."

**Thoughts?**

**Bueller? Bueller?**

**'Till next time, ~Spudz**


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: If you like it, a review would be nice. If you don't like it, go get buggered. I couldn't give a shit less. ~Spudz

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_Previously:_

_He frowned. "What about Edward?"_

_"Oh, don't worry about him," she said with a smirk. "I have it on good authority he's having a come-to-jesus meeting with his brothers right about now. I've been assured he'll be on his best behavior when they return." She grabbed his hand and pulled him up. "Now come on Doc. There's a mountain lion out there with your name on it."_

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**Chapter 14**

Carlisle was just returning from a hunt when he stopped short, seeing Isabel at his door. She must have just knocked because she was facing the door and staring at the ground.

He was happy to see her though. It had been two weeks since that dinner at her guardians home and things between them had warmed considerably. They were now what one would consider amiable companions—friends even—at least in her eyes he thought. To Carlisle, naturally, she was much, much more, and always would be…

Being careful to make sufficient noise such as any human would make, he continued on into the front garden.

She turned and smiled when she saw him. "Good afternoon, Monsieur Cullen," she said with a shallow curtsy.

"Good afternoon," he returned, giving care to how wide his smile was. He was still very mindful of her earlier misgivings and scaring her with a mouthful of perfect, razor sharp teeth was the last thing he wanted to do.

She gestured toward the basket on her hip. "I brought your laundry."

"Please," he said, hurrying forward, "allow me take that."

"Merci," she murmured, a pleasing blush coloring her cheeks as she smiled shyly.

Opening his door, he set the basket inside and turned to her. "Would you like to step inside for a glass of wine and conversation, perhaps?"

"Actually, I was wondering if we could take a walk together? The day is rather mild…"

"It would be my pleasure," he said, offering his arm.

She took it and then frowned as she stared at his sleeve. "Are you injured, Monsieur?" she asked, staring at a smear of blood on his sleeve.

He cursed himself inwardly for having missed its presence. "No, Isabel," he admitted. "I've just come from a hunt."

She paled a bit, the evidence of his true nature intruding on the fantasy of him she'd been slowly building in her mind. "I see." She glanced at him as they walked, taking a well worn path into the woods. "It is sometimes easily forgotten just what you truly are."

Her words cut deeply and he stifled a cringe.

"I apologize," he murmured, his saddened gaze cast on the path ahead as he spoke. "I try diligently to maintain my humanity, but hunting is unfortunately a necessity."

With a deep, bracing breath, she patted his arm, her tone overly bright as she tried to repair the obvious damage her careless words had caused. "It is all right, Monsieur, for all species must hunt in some way or another, oui?"

Gently disengaging her arm, he stepped away and stared into the trees, his hands clasped loosely behind him.

Hearing the conspicuous absence of wildlife in his immediate surroundings only compounded the vast differences between them, and Carlisle, for the first time in a very long time, felt true shame and despair over what he'd become all those years ago.

"Perhaps…" he began, his voice a quiet murmur over his shoulder, "perhaps 'tis best I move on, Isabel—move on and leave you to your life…"

Her breath caught and something…something painful knifed through her at his suggestion, and more than that, at the naked sorrow in his voice as he spoke. "Non, Carlisle!" She rushed forward and clasped his arm, gazing into his eyes as he turned to her. "Forgive me," she whispered, her hand now cupping his cheek, gently rubbing the smoothness she found there as her eyes searched his. "Once again, I have caused you pain—pain that you do not deserve. Whatever you may be, Monsieur, you are first and foremost a kind and decent man and it would do me well to never forget that.

"So, please, sweet Carlisle, please do not leave, for I would…" She dropped her hand from his face and cast her gaze to the ground, her voice choked and quiet as her heart throbbed, "I would miss you terribly."

At the sincerity and sadness in her voice, he sighed heavily, knowing he would never be able to truly leave her. At this point, doing such a thing would tear them both apart; something he was intimately familiar with and would never inflict on her if he could help it. And so, with that decided, he offered his arm with a wan smile. "Shall we continue on then Mademoiselle?

Relief filled her eyes and she smiled gratefully, somehow knowing that he spoke of more than their afternoon walk with that offer. "Oui, we shall continue on."

The rest of their conversation was kept to lighter subjects; her interests in literature, his interests in medicine, their shared love of reading for pleasure, and before they knew it, the afternoon had waned toward evening.

Fortunately, being ever mindful of his surroundings, Carlisle had slowly been guiding her back to her home.

When they found themselves in her courtyard, he turned to her, lifted her hand and placed a light kiss. "I thank you for your company, beautiful Isabel."

""It was a lovely afternoon, Carlisle. Merci," she said, her head tipped back as her eyes searched his.

He found himself reluctant to part company as his eyes took in her features, imprinting them even more firmly in his mind; her eyes the color of the finest cocoa, her lips, blush-rose and pillow soft—just begging to be kissed, her skin the purest cream with hints of rose on her cheeks—she was perfection in his eyes. "Isabel, I have heard of a traveling minstrel who will perform in the village tomorrow. Would you accompany me, providing the weather allows?"

He watched as her eyes lit with excitement as she smiled brightly. "Oh yes! I would love that!"

He smiled and before he realized what he was doing, he'd leaned down and brushed a light kiss over her lips.

Her sharp intake of breath and wide eyes brought him back to the present and he stepped back. "Forgive me. I lost myself for a moment…"

Her finger pressing against his lips cut him off and he looked at her with curiosity shining in his eyes as she smiled shyly. "Shh, do not apologize," she whispered. "I enjoyed it."

With that, she left him staring after her as she slipped into her guardian's home, the last look she sent him as the door closed, filled with a secret smile and mischief.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: As I said in an A/N for another story, I'm working my way through updates, beginning with the oldest first. This was next in line. If you're still with me, I thank you. If you're a new reader, welcome. I hope you all enjoy it. If so, leave a review, yeah? Light and love, ~Spudz

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**Chapter 15**

Her laughter was like music to his ears and Carlisle basked in it while watching her watch the minstrel and various entertainers who belonged to the traveling company as they entertained the crowd.

There was one man who juggled and was dressed rather outrageously in bright colors, and this is the one Isabel watched at the moment as he pretended to stumble and lose control, startling the crowd with his antics.

She laughed again, applauding along with everyone as the performers lined up and bowed, before smiling brightly at Carlisle. "They were wonderful, oui?" she gushed while taking his offered arm.

"Not half as wonderful as your smile and the laughter shining in your eyes," he said as she took his arm and they began to walk.

She blushed and shook her head as he smiled at her. "You flatter me, Carlisle."

"I speak only the truth, beautiful Isabel."

She glanced up at him, her cheeks still rosy and eyes lit with happiness. "Thank you for escorting me. It's been a wonderful day. I've enjoyed it very much," she murmured as they strolled through the merchants market.

"It has been my pleasure."

She looked down, her lips curved in a small smile as her heart sped. He was so handsome, and the way he looked at her did things to her insides—made her want to try some of the things in that book her Aunt had made her read…

"My, what a blush it is that stains your cheeks," he teased with a smile. "Might I inquire the cause?"

She sucked in a breath and looked at him with wide eyes. "I… The cause? There is no cause," she denied. "I simply enjoyed the day, that is all."

His smile widened as her blush deepened and he patted her hand that rested on his arm, not convinced by her denial at all. "I am pleased, lovely Isabel. I love to see you smile and enjoy yourself."

"Isabel… Lovely Isabel," a deeply accented voice drawled, interrupting their stroll as Carlisle watched her tense. "How nice it is to see you."

The couple turned to the voice and Carlisle quickly sized up the smirking man. He was dressed impeccably, with sharp features framed by dark hair which was pulled back and secured by a ribbon. Everything about him screamed wealth and privilege, down to the malevolent, possessive look in his dark eyes as he gazed at Isabel. Carlisle was instantly wary, disliking the man on the spot.

When Isabel failed to speak, the man's brow arched. "Nothing to say, fair Isabel?"

She shook her head, her hand now clutching tightly to Carlisle's arm. "Non, I have nothing to say to you."

The man stepped forward boldly and Carlisle stepped up, his hand covering Isabel's trembling one on his arm as he barely stifled a growl. There was now a very obvious interest from the surrounding crowds, and he surely didn't need the notoriety of a fight on his hands.

The man met his gaze with a cruel smirk before looking down at Isabel. He reached out and touched her cheek and she cringed away. "Tell your Uncle I shall visit very soon to collect the funds owed to me. If he still does not have them…well, let's just say there is an alternative to gold that will satisfy me, oui?"

She clenched her jaw before nodding. "Oui, I will tell him."

He stepped back and looked at Carlisle. "I am Armand De la Roche," he said with a nod, "and you are…?"

"Carlisle Cullen."

A dark brow shot up. "An Englishman? And from the looks of you, a wealthy one." He glanced at Isabel. "Interesting company you keep. Try not to let it go to that pretty head of yours, ma petite." He squared his shoulders, tugged his cuffs and smiled smugly. "I shall see you soon," he said before turning on his heel and striding away through the crowded marketplace.

"Arg!" she spat quietly while trembling noticeably, "that man!"

"Does he bother you frequently?" Carlisle asked as they left the town proper and took the path leading back to her home.

She shook her head. "I had never seen him until his last visit to my Uncle, but it seems my Uncle has owed him money for quite a while." She nervously swept back a stray curl. "I don't know what we are going to do." She glanced at Carlisle as a blush swept her cheeks. "I don't know the amount, but I know we don't have it. We barely have enough to survive and feed ourselves."

"I could…" he began but she cut in sharply.

"Non! We will not take charity," she said with a fierce light in her eyes. "You are very kind, but we will manage…somehow."

"It would not be charity, Isabel. I…" he hesitated, not wanting to spook her by telling her just how he felt. He loved her already. How could he not? She was his. He could feel that in the deepest, most instinctual part of himself, but if he shared that with her, he knew she'd balk, especially since—deep down—she was still frightened of what he was. "I care for you," he said, settling for the less forthright option, "and I don't want to see you, or your family left to the mercies of such a man. Not when I'm fully capable of helping the situation."

She let go of his arm and turned to him. "You think to buy my affection?" she asked, her nostrils flaring with her temper. "I am not for sale to any man! I will work for the money, but I will not be bought like a common prostituée!"

He was taken aback by her sudden show of temper and it caused his own to spike, especially at the notion that he would ever infer what she was suggesting. "You think so little of me that you would accuse me of such a motive?!" he asked with naked pain in his eyes and voice.

She tilted her chin up. "Are you not? What you are suggesting would encumber my family to you, but what are your motives? You woo me with sweet words and pleasant outings, but toward what end, Monsieur?"

Before he could even think about what he was doing, he pulled her close and kissed her, slanting his mouth over her lips that were parted in a shocked gasp. He barely registered her fists as they struck his chest, but then she softened in his arms, her body molding to his as she began to return the kiss, her whimpers and sighs swallowed between them as their lips moved together. "I love you," he murmured, his hand cupping the back of her head as he trailed kisses across the smooth skin of her cheek. "I love you and would never dishonor you, my beautiful Isabel…"

She tipped her head back and moaned as he kissed down her neck, his hand splayed on her back, holding her impossibly close as she blinked lust hooded eyes. "You…love me?" She pushed back and he released her. "But, how can this be?" she asked, fighting the part of herself that desperately wanted to be back in his arms—the part that knew everything about him from a far off time in the future.

He frowned and looked away. "What I am—we are selfish and unchanging creatures guided largely by instincts." He looked back at her. "I have known you and loved you before, in another lifetime—how? I do not know, but it's true. You held my heart then, and took it with you when you died, but now, here you are again, and I cannot…_cannot_ bring myself to leave or let you go." He glanced at her and she stared back, her eyes filled with tears and confusion.

"I know you too," she hedged in little more than a whisper, "but from a time far from now." She looked down, a deep frown marring her brow. "How can this be?" She looked up. "Is this some sort of witch craft? Have you bewitched me? Is this because of what you are?"

He reached out and she backed away a step as his hand clenched and dropped back to his side. "I…no, I don't think so. At least, it's nothing I've consciously done. Please, believe me. I would…Isabel, I would _never_ hurt you."

She swiped a tear from her cheek. "I believe you," she whispered. "At least this newer part of me believes you—knows you to be a man of honor." She hung her head. "I am sorry for my harsh words. You did nothing to deserve them and I had no right to be angry." She glanced at him and he nodded with a resigned sigh.

"Allow me to escort you home?" he said, offering his arm. "It's getting late and we still have quite the walk."

"Oui," she said and took his offered arm. They fell into step together but were silent for most of the walk, both lost in their own thoughts of what they'd just talked about.

Now that he'd laid bare his feelings, his heart ached at her reticence. He'd _known_ better—known it was too soon for her, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. He wanted her like he'd never wanted anyone before. In so many ways, she was his Isabella, while in others… Her seeming rejection of him pained him almost as badly as losing his wife had.

"I am sorry."

Her voice startled him from his musings and he glanced at her. "There's no need to apologize," he said with a wan smile. "It was forward of me to offer."

"Non," she murmured. "You were only being kind and I let my temper get away from me." She glanced at him. "I hope you can forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Isabel."

"How can you say that? I accused you of…of…arg! You are an exasperating man!"

His brows shot up. "Why?"

"Because you will not let me apologize for my horrid words!"

"I'm sorry?" he said, his tone one of confused disbelief as she glared.

"You should be."

He scoffed a laugh and she joined him a moment later while muttering, "Stubborn man."

He arched a brow. "Temperamental woman," he teased and she swatted his arm.

They soon arrived back at her guardian's home and she led him to the door where she turned to him. "You will join us for dinner, oui?"

"Oh, I really should be getting home…"

Just then, the door opened and her Aunt smiled widely. "Isabel, Monsieur Cullen! Come, come! Dinner is ready."

He raised a hand. "I really should be going…"

"Non!" the old woman protested. "We have already set a place for you!" she insisted, ushering them both inside with an insistent wave as Isabel smirked.

His shoulders sagged and he nodded while giving the old woman a smile. "It would be my pleasure."

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XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

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"Here on your day off again, Dr. Cullen?"

He looked up from the book he'd been quietly reading to Bella and smiled. "Just for a bit, Janice," he answered while the nurse checked over everything.

"She's a popular girl," Janice said with a nod to all the cards and flowers that lined the window ledge and table.

"She is," he agreed.

"Well," Janice said as she paused at the door, "still no changes, right?"

"No, none," he affirmed and she shook her head.

"Poor girl, she's so young… I hope she wakes soon." She waved. "Call if you need me, Doc."

"I will, Janice, thank you."

When the door closed, he leaned forward and caressed Bella's cheek as he murmured softly, "When will you wake, sleeping beauty?"

To his shock, she turned her face into his touch while sighing his name.

"Bella?!" he said, setting the book aside to assess her. He lifted her eyelids one at a time and then tested her reflexes before sitting back in his seat with a sigh when he detected no change. With the exception of that brief response, nothing had changed.

The door opened and Edward walked in. "How is she?"

Carlisle eyed him warily. "Still no change," he said, choosing not to share that she had whispered his name and responded to his touch. He covered those thoughts with other mundane things on the surface as he'd become adept at doing shortly after discovering Edward's invasive gift.

He'd had to learn to do so early on. It was that, or have his whole life exposed to his first childe, one fragment at a time—a prospect he didn't relish in the least.

Carlisle tensed as Edward approached the bed, leaning down to place a kiss on Bella's cheek while whispering, "I'm here, love. Wake up for me? Please?"

"Carlisle," she sighed and Edward straightened before shooting a glare at his sire.

"You don't look surprised," he accused and Carlisle shook his head.

"No," he admitted reluctantly, "she said my name earlier, but her reflexes and responses to stimulation remain unchanged…aside from that."

Edward nodded and pulled up another chair on the other side of the bed. "I guess we'll just have to wait until she wakes to see who she chooses."

Carlisle's gaze trailed over Bella's still form as he nodded. "Yes, I suppose we will." As he gazed at her, his guard dropped and images of the past flooded his mind, causing Edward to sit up and take notice.

"Who was that?" he snapped.

Carlisle quickly covered his thoughts. "Who do you speak of?"

"The girl in your thoughts just now—she looked remarkably like Bella, but with blue eyes. Who is she?"

Carlisle's jaw clenched. There were things in his past—painful things—he didn't want to share with just anyone, especially not Edward, since they were now at odds. "Just someone from my past."

"A woman you loved?"

Carlisle smirked bitterly. "I still do."

Edward growled lowly. "Then why the fascination with Bella?"

Carlisle met his gaze squarely. "There are things in my past I choose to keep private, Edward. She is one of them, for various reasons. When Bella awakes, I may choose to tell you, but not until I've spoken to Bella about it all."

Edward's eyes narrowed as he tried to glean what he could from his sire's thoughts. It was impossible though, as he had covered them with thoughts of their current conversation and Bella's condition. "What could Bella possibly have to do with the woman I glimpsed in your thoughts?" He leaned forward. "Just what is it you're hiding, Carlisle?"

Carlisle reached out and brushed his fingers over Bella's cheek. "As I said, you'll just have to wait until I've spoken to Bella."

**Your thoughts? **

**Please review,**

**Till next time, ~Spudz**


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any original characters therein. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter 16 A/N: Regarding the latter half of this chapter: I realize Carlisle's time in Volterra was much earlier than I've chosen (just judging by the style of clothing in the painting he had, his time with them was probably during the mid-seventeen hundreds) but well, just roll with it, yeah?

I'm also aware the Lira wasn't in use until the mid to late 1860s, but again, it's a real bitch finding info on the currency of the time and the relative cost of living. The lira was the easiest to nail down, thus my use of it.

Regarding the use of Italiano; I speak not a word of it, so forgive any mistakes. I blame Google translate.

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Chapter 16

Isabel was just clearing the morning dishes when her uncle rose from his seat and kissed his wife's wrinkled cheek. "I'll be going to check the traps now," he said while donning his coat.

The old woman handed him a cloth wrapped bundle. "Your lunch, since you won't be home in time."

"You're a blessing to me, ma chéri," he said with a sparkle in his eye as the old woman scoffed.

"Arg, be gone with you, you old charmer."

He laughed and Isabel smiled to herself as he left the house. She only hoped to have what they had someday. To still love each other at their age… It made her think of their handsome blond neighbor, but she frowned as she did so. How could she possibly have that with him with what he is?

She shivered, as she didn't think she could ever become what he would need her to be. It would cost her soul. She'd be damned in the eyes of her church; something she wasn't willing to do.

Still, there was just something about Carlisle Cullen that she just couldn't ignore. Everything about him seemed to call to her and no matter how she tried, she couldn't seem to resist him.

She was just finishing up the dishes when a knock came at the door. "Oh, Monsieur Cullen!" her Aunt greeted while ushering him in. "Come in, sit. Are you hungry?"

Isabel smiled, drying her hands while trying not to laugh as Carlisle fended off her Aunt with a polite smile and a raised hand. "No, Madame, I'm fine, really. I just came to ask Isabel if she would be amenable to an outing with me later today when I return from taking care of some business?"

Her Aunt turned toward her with an expectant look and she nodded. "Oui, I think I would like that very much."

The old woman smiled widely while glancing between the two. "Ah, young love," she mused before hurrying from the room while humming a merry tune.

Carlisle laughed and glanced at Isabel through his lashes as he raised a brow. "So, I shall see you sometime after lunch. I'm not sure of the time…"

"That is fine," Isabel reassured. "I have plenty to keep me busy until then. Today is baking day, so I'll be here in the kitchen."

He took her hand and raised it to his lips for a light kiss. "I'll return as soon as I can," he said before letting himself out.

Once outside, he smiled and squared his shoulders, one hand going to his waistcoat where a bag of gold coin weighed heavy in his pocket.

If all went well, Armand De la Roche would no longer be a threat, and he could be about the business of seriously wooing Isabel, with no further distractions.

With that thought, he set off into the woods toward town. He needed to find out where the man lived first, and then make his visit.

It didn't take long to find out where the man's estate was. Seemed he was from a very old family and well known among the townsfolk, so, while keeping to a human pace, he set off through the town in the direction of the De la Roche estate.

It wasn't hard to spot, as it sat, majestically perched on a hill, its white stone exterior gleaming in the light that filtered through the cloud cover and shade of old growth trees that surrounded it.

Easing open the white washed iron gate, he stepped through and made his way to the impressively carved front door upon which he knocked.

It opened moments later to a maid who gazed at him curiously. "Oui?"

"I'm here to see Monsieur De la Roche. Is he in?"

"Non, Monsieur, I am sorry."

He frowned. "When do you expect him back?"

She blinked. "I do not know, Monsieur. He did not say."

"Did he say where he was going by chance?"

"Non, he did not. Shall I tell him you called, Monsieur…?

Carlisle sighed in frustration. "Cullen, and yes, please let him know I would like to meet with him."

"Oui, Monsieur Cullen, I will."

She shut the door and Carlisle turned away, gazing toward the winding, tree-lined drive in thought. He could try to track the man by scent… What good was being what he was if he didn't take advantage of the benefits, after all?

So that's what he did. It was slow going at first though, because the man had kept to the public roads and he couldn't risk using his speed where he might be seen. When he reached a point, however, where he figured out just where De la Roche was headed, his worry kicked in and he dashed into the cover of the trees while pouring on the speed to get back to Isabel's home.

As he drew near, he heard screams and a struggle and then the scent of blood hit him, drawing a growl from deep in his chest.

Just as he arrived, De la Roche ran from the house, leaving the door hanging wide as he jumped on his horse and whipped the animal into a run.

"Isabel…" Carlisle said with his heart in his throat as he ghosted inside. "No," he said, hitting his knees next to where she laid, her hand clutching the handle of a kitchen knife that protruded from her belly. She blinked tears from her eyes as she looked at him.

"Carlisle…" she croaked through swollen and split lips. "Armand…he tried to…he wanted to…my Auntie…!"

"Shh," he said, his eyes flitting to the old woman's unconscious form across the room. "She's fine love, just knocked out."

"Bien, j'étais inquiet." (Good, I was worried.) she said as a tear rolled into her hair.

He dried it with his thumb while cupping her cheek. "What happened, Isabel?"

"Armand…demanded money. When my Aunt told him we did not have it…he tried…he hit me...tried to take me. I got a knife and tried to fight him. In the struggle…" she held up the bloody hand that had been holding the knife, "this happened. I…I don't know how, but oh… Ça fait mal!" (It hurts!)

His hand shook as he wiped another tear from her temple. "I know, love, but you'll be fine. I can…" He squeezed his eyes shut, beating back the memories of Isabella dying in his arms before meeting Isabel's teary eyes again as he continued, his heart in his eyes. "I can fix this. I can save you…if you'll let me."

Confusion filled her eyes. "How?"

"I can bite you…change you…make you like me"

Her eyes went wide. "Non!" she said while trying to scoot away. Carlisle drew his hands back as she cried out in pain and ceased her struggling. "Non," she repeated, her tears coming at a steady rate now. "You would damn me? Curse my soul to hell?" she asked, her lips trembling as she stared into his eyes.

"Father in Heaven, help me…" he whispered. "but yes, I would… But only by your consent," he croaked, as tears that would never fall misted his golden eyes. "Never without your consent, precious Isabel. I don't want to lose you. I've only just found you…"

She coughed and blood spattered her lips as she cried out while clutching the handle of the knife. "Take it out, Carlisle," she begged through her tears, "please, it pains me so."

His gaze darted to the worn wooden handle and he reached out with a shaking hand, easing the knife out and throwing it aside as she whimpered and gasped. Blood bubbled forth from the wound and he pressed his hand over it, despairing when it continued to flow; the hot, red fluid seeping through his fingers to soak her dress before pooling on the floor.

His eyes darted to hers as she quietly cried. "Please, Isabel…"

"Non," she said in little more than a whisper while cupping his cheek with a bloody hand as hot tears ran into her hair. "I cannot do it, Carlisle, not even to stay with you. Je suis désolé," (I am sorry) she whispered as her eyes slipped shut, her hand fell limp, and her heart stopped.

She was gone, and Carlisle Cullen found himself all alone in the world, once again.

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XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

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It was a subject the townsfolk would whisper about for years to come…

The beautiful girl caught between the desires of two handsome men; one a virtual stranger of light, kindness and smiles, the other dark and well known; plagued his whole life with anger and greed.

All three had disappeared from their midst on the same day; the girl by tragic death and the two men, seemingly into thin air, no one ever knowing where they went.

The only soul who did would never speak of that day again; at least not for decades to come.

He had tracked down and killed Armand De la Roche with his bare hands; disposing of the body high in the mountains where only the wildlife and God would find him, before departing to wander, his gold and meager possessions in a pack on his back.

He had left all his books behind, the bitterness he felt at losing Isabel coloring his perception of everything including his ambitions.

That didn't last, however, and after a few years of aimless wandering, he found himself feeling restless; finally feeling the need to do more with his existence than merely _exist_.

During his travels, he'd come across a nomad who'd told him of a coven of vampires who lived differently. _'Nighttime patrons of the arts'_ he'd referred to them as, due to the interests and activities of the three leaders. He said they were also enforcers of the law for their society; something which served to further intrigue Carlisle. They sounded almost civilized and he found himself wanting to meet them.

And so it was he found himself arriving, after a fashion, in the little city of Volterra, Italy during the summer of 1843.

Before making the last leg of his journey, he'd visited Rome where he'd sorted out the problem of his meager wardrobe. He'd thought it best to be outfitted in the finest fashions of the day, especially if he was to reintegrate into any sort of polite society.

As he walked the early evening, torch-lit streets, he looked for a hotel or boarding house, still struggling a bit with the language he'd taken time to try to teach himself before making the trip.

Finally, he spied a sign for a boarding house and entered, stopping and waiting in the foyer when he heard footsteps descending the stairs.

"Buona sera," he greeted the woman that appeared, "hai a disposizione una stanza?" (Good evening, do you have a room available?)

"Sì, per quanto tempo si fermerà?" (Yes, how long will you be staying?)

"Uh…" he stumbled on his words with an embarrassed smile, "I'm sorry, do you speak English?"

She smiled. "English, ah, si. How long you stay?"

"I would like to let a room for a week, then perhaps extend after that, should I decide to stay in the area a while."

"You pay up front for the week," she said while leading him to a study. She turned the register on the desk and handed him an inked quill. "One lira," she said, holding her hand out after he'd filled in his information. "That includes food for you…uh, come si dice?" she muttered, searching for the words, "…breakfast and dinner. You decide you stay longer, the price goes down."

He handed over the requested amount from his waistcoat pocket as she looked over his information in the register. "Thank you, but I won't be taking my meals here."

She eyed him speculatively for a moment before nodding with a wave toward the stairs. "Come, I show you your room."

When she unlocked the room, she stood aside for him to enter then handed him the key. "You like?"

He peered around. It was rather small and plain, with a bed, clothes press, desk, chair, and wash-stand. It was clean and adequate enough for his needs though, so he nodded. "It is fine, thank you, Mrs…?"

"Rossi," she supplied.

He inclined his head. "Mrs. Rossi."

"The wash room is down the hall. Just tell Fina and she will ready a bath for you. Buona notte, Signor Cullen," she said, exiting and shutting the door with a soft click.

With a sigh, he dropped his pack on the bed and began to settle in, hanging his clothes in the press before stowing the bag in the bottom and closing the doors.

That done, he stripped out of his waistcoat and shirt and took a few moments to freshen up at the wash stand. The cool water felt good as he splashed it on his face before grabbing the towel to dry.

_Italy…_

He was finally here, in Italy. It had taken some few years for him to get here since he'd paused in his travels several places over the years to study medicine for a time. Also, he'd simply been in no hurry. What was the point? He had all the time in the world due to his immortality.

Still, through it all, his interest in this coven of vampires had never waned, so he'd slowly worked his way here, learning all he could on the way.

Stepping toward the window, he pulled back the curtain and peered out, debating whether he wanted to explore the place this soon or not. _'No time like the present,'_ he thought as he went to the clothes press to take out fresh clothes.

Changing quickly, he peered at himself in the mirror while straightening his collar, before leaving the room.

Once back outside on the narrow street, he took a moment to survey the scents around him; the most dominant being the stench of cooked food. Just under that was the smell of burning wood followed closely by the ever-tempting smell of human blood.

Through the years, he'd gotten better at stifling his instinctive lust for human blood; so good, in fact, that it barely registered with him now, and an openly bleeding human didn't even result in a change of eye color for him.

Such control had been a necessity, since, after his period of aimless wandering, he'd taken up the study of medicine in earnest. He'd done so privately, at first before trusting himself to sit in on a dissection of a human corpse in theatre.

After he'd attended a few more of those successfully, he'd allowed himself to graduate to actual participation, though he'd yet to work around a live patient; perhaps he would, someday soon, but not yet.

With one final deep breath, he turned toward the castle he could see in the distance, and began walking, keeping his pace to that of a human stroll as he returned the odd greeting he received here and there with a polite smile and nod.

In his experience, most humans left his kind alone, seeming to sense the danger they posed on an instinctual level, while others remained cheerfully ignorant in their friendliness.

During his travels, he'd rarely found such forward humans, but here, they seemed to be rather plentiful and he wondered if it had something to do with their close proximity to the base of such a large coven of his kind. As usual, such an anomaly piqued his curiosity, and he made a mental note to ask the brothers about it if he found them as amenable as the nomad had claimed them to be.

When he'd reached the church located next to the castle, he finally caught the scent of another vampire and paused his stroll to study his surroundings with a wary eye; after all, if he could smell them, then the opposite was true, and if there was one thing he'd learned, it was to be wary of others of his kind, no matter how friendly they appeared to be.

Not seeing anyone out of the ordinary, he continued on toward the castle and the deep shadows surrounding its walls, whipping around with a hiss as a being unexpectedly dropped down behind him.

"Quali attività avete qui, straniero?" (What business do you have here, stranger?) the cloaked male demanded as another, larger male, silently dropped down to join him.

Carlisle was feeling quite wary now as the two eyed him from beneath the deep cowls of their heavy, black cloaks. Still, he tried to stay calm as he answered in English, "I seek to meet the brothers, nothing more. I've heard much about them over the years, and I am intrigued."

The shorter one raised a brow. "Well then, let us not tarry here. We shall take you to them." He turned and began walking. "Come with me. Felix, you follow."

Carlisle trailed behind the shorter male while keeping his senses sharply focused. He didn't like having such a threat, as the huge male—Felix—posed at his back, but he didn't see that he had much of a choice in the matter.

They escorted him into a tunnel that dropped down sharply into a torch-lit hall with many stair sets and halls that branched off.

Finally, after traveling past several sets of these stairs, they took one that ascended into a much more luxurious part of the castle, as Carlisle could now see paintings, tapestries and sculptures placed between evenly spaced, floor to ceiling windows.

Arriving at an intricately carved set of double doors, The shorter male paused and turned to him. "I will now present you to our Kings—Aro, Marcus, and Caius. Be sure that you show proper respect."

With that, he turned and opened the door, striding ahead of Carlisle toward a dais which held three males seated upon three throne-like seats. "Demetri, che ci ha portato un visitatore!" (you brought us a visitor)

Demetri bowed. "We found him very near the church, Master Aro. He says he came here to meet you."

The raven-haired King raised a brow as he glanced at Carlisle. "Indeed? How wonderful for us." He waved a hand. "Thank you, Demetri. You are dismissed."

Demetri bowed again and took his leave as Carlisle stepped forward. "I am Carlisle Cullen," he said with a bow.

Aro smiled widely, sharing a glance with his brothers before looking back at Carlisle. "An Englishman! Welcome! It isn't often we have visitors from your country. Tell me, what is it that brings you to us?"

"Many years ago, I was told of the existence of your coven and your way of life here and I was intrigued. I've wanted to meet you since."

Aro rose from his seat and stepped down, reaching out to offer his hand. "I am glad you did," he said as Carlisle grasped his hand in greeting.

The King tilted his head, his inky brows inching up as he dropped Carlisle's hand. "You feed from animals?"

Carlisle's brows shot up. "How did you know?"

Aro's smile turned sheepish. "I have a gift, my friend. I see every thought you've ever had with just one touch."

Carlisle gaped at him. "So, just now…?"

Aro raised a brow. "Yes," he said simply. "I saw it all my friend, and may I say, you are the most intriguing being I've met in centuries! A physician?! Truly? Such iron control! I am stunned and fascinated."

He turned to the blond male who sat quietly observing, his keen red gaze calculating and filled with suspicion as he stared at Carlisle. "He does not feed from humans, brother! And he's been training to be a physician to the humans! Can you imagine such a thing?!"

Carlisle watched as the blond raised a pale brow. "I find myself giddy at the prospect, Aro," he deadpanned while raising a hand to study his perfectly trimmed nails.

"Pfft, always such a kill-joy, Caius," Aro scoffed while turning to smile at Carlisle.

"No," the seemingly bored blond returned with a smirk, "that would be Marcus, brother. I am merely unimpressed."

Carlisle's attention cut to the other brother—Marcus—who was indeed, seemingly not engaged in the goings on in the slightest as he stared out into the distance, his head propped in his hand. He looked like a statue that managed to blink occasionally.

"Well, I think our new friend is enthralling, and I would like to get to know him better."

Carlisle gave him a hesitant smile. "It would be my pleasure."

"Excellent! It is decided then!" He clapped his hands. "Santiago, show the good doctor to a guest suite so he may settle in."

Carlisle raised a hand. "I already have accommodations at the Rossi Boarding House, but thank you all the same."

Aro tapped his chin with a finger while studying his visitor with narrowed eyes. "Nonsense! You shall stay here, I insist. Santiago, go and retrieve our guest's belongings from the Rossi Boarding House."

He stepped forward, placing an arm around Carlisle's shoulders as he began ushering him toward a door behind the thrones. "Meanwhile, come, we shall share a fantastic bottle of wine while deepening our acquaintance, si?"

**Your thoughts?**

**Please review,**

**Till next time, ~Spudz**


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